


of family and fear (smp rewrite)

by jackstanifold



Series: Of Family and Fear au [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Cussing, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Politics, Revolution, Tommy being a dick, Trans Floris | Fundy, Unreliable Narrator, War, alex has a fat ass, but also AU, same plot different setting, the usual, wilbur being a dad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:56:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 20,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27443014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jackstanifold/pseuds/jackstanifold
Summary: People wake up in the wilderness one day, no memory of their past, of their name, of their family, and no knowledge of how they got there. All they have is the clothes on their back and the knowledge that they don’t belong.aka: smp rewrite but it's set in another dimention and there's something weird going on in the background.
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & Karl Jacobs, Alexis | Quackity & TommyInnit, Clay | Dream/Floris | Fundy, Eret & Floris | Fundy, Eret & Wilbur Soot, Floris | Fundy & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Floris | Fundy & Wilbur Soot, Toby Smith | Tubbo & Technoblade, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit, Zak Ahmed & Darryl Noveschosch, several platonic ships
Series: Of Family and Fear au [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2052519
Comments: 77
Kudos: 252





	1. Chapter 1

For decades, scientists have considered the possibility of alternate dimensions. They’ve wondered if it’s possible to get to them, and if so, how it can be done safely. The truth is, there’s only one attached to our universe, and it’s not pretty. A land full of magic, yes, but also of monsters, where death is impossible, and fear is inevitable. The Pays de Survie.  
It is possible to get there, but it takes a good deal of luck. Or no luck at all, depending on how you look at it. You wake up in the wilderness one day, no memory of your past, of your name, of your family, and no knowledge of how you got there. All you have is the clothes on your back and the knowledge that you don’t belong.

For some reason, it isn’t possible to die. Or rather, it’s not possible to stay dead. No matter by decapitation, or fire, or starvation, you simply awaken in the last place you slept, until your third death. Three lives. Whether by the same strange magic or not, it’s impossible to conceive children in the Pays de Survie, the only population coming from “spawns”. As such, royalty was chosen in a strange way there, not by blood or marriage, but by violence, with anyone being allowed to challenge the monarch in a battle to the death.

  
Most challengers are in their thirties, prime of their lives, and built like brick walls. So when a scrawny 17 year old boy burst into the palace to demand to battle the king, no one expected him to win.

  
He fought like a demon, moved like lightning and smiled like a killer. It wasn’t until the king’s head was flung across the arena that people realised what had happened. When asked who he was, he shrugged, still grinning like he hadn’t just killed a man, and said happily. “I don’t know. I’ve only been here for an hour.”

  
For a while, they just called him The King, but at some point, someone called him Dream and it stuck. Dream, the king, the god, the beast. In five years of ruling the kingdom, he’d only come close to losing once, to a stranger in a pig skull mask. He won by technicality, and the stranger slunk off, not to be seen again by the citizens of the SMP.

  
Dream loved being king. After a time, he even ended up falling for the baker, a small, fox-like man named Fundy and they got engaged. He had two incredible friends he jokingly called the Dream Team, and very rarely was he actually involved in conflict.

  
Which is why he never expected a rebellion. Why he never expected his world to fall apart the way it did.


	2. Music Discs and Revolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i couldn't figure out how to write the disc war, so i didn't. :)

The young man kneeling in front of the throne was shaking. Everyone could see it. His hands trembled as he stared at the ground, not daring to look at the king sitting in front of him. To most of the onlookers, he looked scared. His light brown hair spilled over his forehead, hiding his grey blue eyes from sight. His broad shoulders shook slightly, tensed in a poor attempt to hide it. “Poor boy,” The people whispered, pity in their eyes. “Whatever he did, I’m sure he regrets it…”

But the brunette man standing in the back, he saw the tremors as what they really were. Self control. The boy was amused and he certainly had no regrets about what he’d done. His fists were clenched, not in anxiety, but in the attempt to stop himself from laughing. The man sighed. “Oh, Tommy, what have you gotten yourself into…”

The king must have realized it too, his eyes narrowing behind his mask. He was tall, and lean, with shoulder length dirty blond hair and pale green eyes that glimmered with power and wisdom. No longer the amused boy who laughed while being crowned, Dream was a king, and he had no time for criminals.

He raised a fist, and the room went silent. “Tommy. Do you understand why you’re here today? What charges are being pressed against you, and what your punishment will be if you’re found guilty?” The boy nodded, but he continued anyway. “You have been accused of murdering Alyssa, and stealing from Ponk. If we decide you have committed these crimes, you will be executed, and jailed for up to a year. Do you have a defense for yourself?”

Tommy raised his head, “Yes, your majesty.” His voice was soft, but it carried through the hall. It had a sharpness to it, which made the people murmur and the brown haired man wince. The room quieted down, eager to hear him, curious what he could possibly say that could save him. “Just killed a woman and I’m feeling great.”

The room exploded with noise, people shouting at the 15 year old and each other. The only two silent in the court were Dream and Tommy, who stared at each other, a battle of wills, neither blinking, neither looking away. Finally, the teen glanced away, to the ground. Dream raised his hand, and silence fell again, this time filled with anger and uncertainty. 

Everyone's eyes shifted to the side, where two people stood, a man and a woman. The woman was scowling, but nodded at Dream. Tommy gulped and looked at the man, fear in his eyes for the first time, realization setting in. The man looked him up and down, before letting out a sigh. He shook his head, and the teen’s face split into a grin. 

“Ponk… are you sure?” Dream’s voice was soft, as if talking to a lost child. The man, Ponk, clearly didn’t like that but he nodded.

“If he pays me back for what he took, I don’t think he should be punished too much.” Ponk glanced at the woman. “I’m sure he didn’t mean to hurt Alyssa.”

Alyssa rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to speak, but Dream held up a hand, silencing her. “Very well, the decision must be unanimous to execute him. However.” He turned back the smiling boy, who tried his damnedest to look serious and serene. “He will be punished. You have taken from Ponk and Alyssa, so something will be taken from you.” He raised a hand.

A man walked in, smirking at the kneeling boy, who glared at him. In his hands he held a small cloth sack, which he handed to the king. Dream pulled out two discs, CDs that had been played so much that the words on one was barely readable. ‘Dear Tommy, Your personal mix, Love, Momma.’

Tommy paled, his face going limp, his body slumping. “No… you can’t.” His eyes darted from Dream’s smiling mask to the disks to the man who brought them in. “Your majesty… Sapnap… please… kill me, I don’t care, just give them back... “

Dream shook his head. “You’ve rocked the boat, Tommy. We have to make sure you never do it again. Your discs will be destroyed, and you will be indebted to Ponk, until he chooses to release you.”

Tommy opened his mouth once more, but another voice interrupted him. “Your majesty. If I may?” The brown haired man stepped forward, slipping through the crowd to stand next to Tommy’s still limp form; a slight nervousness buzzed in his chest, not that he showed it.

Dream looked at him, before nodding slowly. “Go ahead, Wilbur.” 

Wilbur let out a breath, smiling at him, before straightening up and speaking. “When I first found Tommy, he was just a child, newly spawned and unwise to the ways of the world. I swore that I would keep him in check, act as a mentor, a brother, but I didn’t. Those discs are his most valued possession in the world. The only things he has left from his Life Before. He has caused so much pain, but it was only due to my neglect and inability to keep an eye on him. Punish me, not him, I beg of you.”

Dream gazed down at him, as the court fell silent. Tommy wasn’t well liked, he’d started fights with too many people to be popular, and he was rude. Wilbur, on the other hand, was a quiet man, and charismatic, and him vouching for his brother certainly didn’t hurt people’s opinions of him.

Dream saw something else in him, though. His eyes glittered at Wilbur from the depths of his mask, but Wilbur didn’t flinch. He wasn’t going to lose this, and they both knew it. 

Dream sighed, before standing. “Very well. Wilbur Soot, you will be held accountable for the crimes of your brother. You will be expected to pay back Ponk fully, and to aid Alyssa’s recovery, but Tommy’s discs will be returned, and he will be fully exempt from corporal punishment.”

The people muttered as Sapnap returned to discs to the pouch and handed them to Tommy, but one look from the king silenced them immediately. Wilbur grabbed Tommy’s shoulder and they bowed out, not standing fully until they were in the empty hallway, As soon as the door was closed, Tommy let out a hoot and started jumping up and down, punching the air in glee. 

Wilbur rolled his eyes, smacking him on the head, but he turned away before Tommy could see his grin. The door opened, and a brunette boy slipped out, beaming at his friends. “I can’t believe you got out of that, that was so wild!” He started going down the hall, the others following behind, the mood light and cheerful. 

“Tubbo, why didn’t you back me up? Maybe bust out a ‘Tommy’s my best friend, he would never mean to hurt anyone, it must’ve been an accident!’ or something?” Tommy nudged the smaller boy, who glanced at him.

“You’re the one who said you liked killing women!” Tubbo opened the door, laughing at his friend’s indignant spluttering. 

Wilbur walked behind the younger boys, gazing at the crystal blue sky. A slight breeze came from the lake, and somewhere in the distance, he heard young children laugh. 

"Do you think we would be better rulers than Dream?" The question slipped out of his lips with so little warning that Tommy choked on his laugh, and Tubbo's quip died in his throat. They turned to look at him in confusion and concern, but he just stared at the clouds.

"Wilbur?" Tommy prompted, taking a step towards his brother.

"You heard me. What if we were kings. What if we had the chance to take over. Would we be good at it? Or just… better?"

"But… no one's ever beat Dream in a duel? There's no way any of us could be king, right?" Tubbo looked at Tommy as if seeking approval, but Tommy was gazing at Wilbur, an odd look on his face.

"There's more than one way to become a king." Wilbur finally looked at them. Tommy was staring at him, realization dawning on his face, but Tubbo still looked completely baffled. Wilbur felt something in his heart sink, but he kept talking. "Dream is a dictator. He insists on everything going his way. People don't like him much, despite whatever he thinks. If we started a revolution- if we got people on our side, we could emancipate. Create a better life."

Tommy shook his head, but he looked thoughtful. "That's rediculous. He's got a whole army on his side. We're two kids and a potion brewer. What're we supposed to do, yell at him?"

"Actually… you might have a point, Tommy. Wars aren't won through violence. We'll use our words." Wilbur turned to look at the palace behind them, a smile growing on his face. "We're going to be kings, Tommy."


	3. L'Manburg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> plans are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO EVERYONE. IT'S ME. NIKOLA THIASUS ON THE NINTENDO DS. (sorry this chapter is so late, but hey, fundy, niki, and eret are finally here.)

First order of business was a name. The three of them all got together by the river, and they started brainstorming. Tommy was laying on his back, gazing at the sky, while Tubbo failed to climb a tree, and Wilbur tossed rocks into the water. It was nice out, the sky was a crisp blue, and the breeze smelt of pine sap.

“Ok, does anyone have any real ideas, first of all.” Wilbur asked, his voice light and cheery, unreasonably so for such a somber occasion; but Tommy didn’t comment on it, his attention focused more on the question itself.

“I was thinking of something like Not-DreamSMP.” Tubbo said from the base of the tree, fighting to free his foot from a branch around eye level.  
Tommy laughed. “What the hell kinda name is that?”

Wilbur kicked his little brother gently, before smiling at their friend. “It’s a good idea Tubbo, but not quite what we were going for.”

Tommy grinned, sitting up a little. “How about... Marburg? Or Mantopia. Either’s good in my book."

Wilbur rolled his eyes, but he did let out a little chuckle. “How would we make that sound more like an actual country name though?”

Tubbo finally yanked himself free, and fell to the ground with an ‘oof’. “How about… La Manburg?”

Tommy let out a wheezing laugh. “L’manburg. I like it! L’manburg.... Oi, Will? What’s the new nation’s take on women?"

Wilbur snorted, sitting on the grass beside his younger brother. “We believe that anyone can come here to work, and live, regardless of sexuality or gender.”

“Even women?”

He punched Tommy’s arm, chuckling nonetheless. Tubbo came over to sit with them, his leg pressing against Tommy’s comfortingly, and the taller boy smiled at him. His brother and his best friend, the only people he’d ever need.

“Why are we doing this Wilbur?” He asked, suddenly, shoving himself up into a sitting position. “Is this actually going to happen? Are we really going to revolt?”

Wilbur looked at him, his eyes dark and fathomless. He glanced away, toward the palace. “Dream… Dream isn’t a good man. He has plans. Plans that could hurt people. He’s too obsessed with power to realise how much anguish he’s put his people in.”

Tommy frowned at him. “Where did you hear all that?”

“Fundy.”

Tommy nodded. When he’d first spawned, he’d been taken in by a man named Philza, who’d proclaimed himself his father, along with two other boys the man had found at some point. After Tommy and his elder “brother”, Wilbur left for the city, they encountered a battered and bruised young man named Fundy. Will took him in, and started calling him his son, much in the same way that Phil had “adopted” them, despite the fact that he was only a few years older than Fundy. Years later, the young man ended up enchanting the king, and they got engaged. Due to his upper rank in the government, Fundy had an insider’s point of view, and he had tendency to tell Wilbur all about it.

“Do you think Fundy would join us if we asked him?” Tubbo asked, leaning on Tommy’s shoulder. “And that Eret guy who hangs out at the bakery sometimes? She seems reasonable, right?”

Wilbur shrugged. “I don’t know, but if we get Fundy, we can probably get Eret, they’re pretty good friends from what I’ve heard.”

Tommy scoffed. “Would fluffy go against his fiance though? They’re like, attached at the hip.”

“I don’t know, Tommy… I think they’ve been having arguments, Fundy seems to want Dream to help him and Niki with the bakery, and step down. I think he’d be ecstatic for a chance to make that happen.”

Tommy let out a sigh. “Great. Marital drama.” He let out a hefty groan, but shoved himself to his feet. “Well. I’m thinking we go find out who’s on our side.”

They couldn’t exactly waltz around announcing their plot against the king, obviously, so they started with the next best thing. They bought some cake.  
“-it’ll be simple, no conflict, just a calm, neat emancipation. No one will be hurt. I swear.” Wilbur was leaning over the counter, watching Fundy mix batter with smooth, practiced movements.H

His son looked up at him, raising an eyebrow and sighing. “What exactly inspires you to do this? Dream has been a perfectly reasonable king.”

Wilbur gave him a look. “Fundy, you told me his plans. A reasonable king, he is not.”

At that, Fundy’s partner, a slim woman named Niki, glanced up. “Plans? What exactly are these plans?”

Fundy glared at his father, turning away to pour the batter into a pan. “Nothing. He just… had a dumb idea. Nothing to start a war over.”

Wilbur stared at him. Tommy could almost feel him struggling with whether to say something or not. Finally he shook his head. “I know you trust him, but I don’t. And if I’m right, we’re in a lot of trouble.”

He stood, turning to the door, and started to walk out. No one else moved. Fundy stood behind the counter, staring at the batter. Tommy was staring at Wilbur, and Niki was staring at Fundy, and Tubbo was looking at Tommy.

“Fine.” The thin man turned, causing his father to stop and face him. “I’m with you. But I’m not doing this because I don’t trust him, I’m doing this because I think he’s a fucking idiot. We leave, he steps down and everything works out. Niki?”

Niki started, looking between her friend and the other three. “Um… yeah… who’s going to lead the new kingdom, though? We can’t have another dictatorship.”

Wilbur shrugged. “We can hold a vote. Let the people decide.”

She nodded, satisfied with the answer. “Alright. I’m in too.”

Tommy let out a whoop, and stood up quickly, his fists punching the air. “Fucking hell yes! Do you know if Eret will join us?”

Fundy sighed, turning back to his work. “Probably. He’s been talking of challenging Dream for the throne, they’ll no doubt be elated to hear of an easier way.”

Wilbur laughed, a beaming smile on his face. “Today, we are SMP citizens, tomorrow? L’manberg will rise! Welcome to the new world, men!”

Eret joined, but not without questions. “We just send a letter? ‘Sorry, your highness, we don’t like you and we think you’re an egomaniac, so we’re leaving, xoxo your fiance and in-laws-to-be’?”

Wilbur nodded, and the other person blinked. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

Eret scratched his chin, gazing at the skyline (or, that’s where Tommy thought she was looking, their sunglasses made it hard to tell), lips pursed tightly. “So my options are join you and leave this dump, or watch you guys leave and likely starve alone?”

“Yeah.”

He finally angled his head toward Wilbur, looking him up and down. Finally, he nodded. “Alright. It’s not a bad idea, all in all. I’ll help.”

And just like that, word spread around town. Rumors of five men and a woman determined to win their freedom, and leave the SMP. People were curious, and excited, and scared. But above all else, they were hopeful. And so, L’Manberg began, along with the fall of the great masked king.


	4. Declarations and Council

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> UHHHHH I FUCKING FORGOT NIKI WASN'T IN THE OG WAR. OOPS.
> 
> also follow me on tumblr @antarctic-empire-technoblade

Dream was a proud man. Anyone could tell you that. He was confident in his skill as a warrior, and his fame, and his wealth. He liked his life exactly as it was, and he assumed that things would never change.

  
So when word of a revelation reached his palace, he was probably furious. Even more so when he heard it was being led by his own fiance and the delinquent child who he’d shown mercy to so many times before. 

  
He probably was enraged, but Tubbo had no real way to tell. All he knew is that exactly one week after the initial idea of L’Manberg, His Royal Majesty; the king of SMP; the ruler of the Pays de Survie; Dream himself; was standing in Wilbur’s yard.

  
He, Tubbo, Tommy, and Wilbur stood in a loose circle. Tommy stood with his hand on his sword, his body tense and wired, but there was a sparkle in his eye. He didn't look half as anxious as Tubbo felt; in fact, it looked like he was enjoying it. Wilbur gazed at the king, his eyes cold and calculating, clearly trying to decipher where this was going, his body fully relaxed. And Dream looked how he always did. Comfortably regal.

  
Tubbo had never been this close to the king, and there were things he’d never noticed about the man. For example, he was shorter than both Tommy and Wilbur by a couple inches, although he still towered over Tubbo. He had a scar on his neck, probably from a duel, and his blonde hair was braided down one side. He was also a lot younger than Tubbo had excepted. He knew the king was twenty, of course, only a few years older than him, but it was still odd to see him up close, his eyes bright and young, his skin fresh and smooth. He looked so human, so real.

  
“In the entire history of the Pays de Survie, there has only been one kingdom, and one king, and one way to become king. This is unprecedented, and, to be entirely honest, a horrible fucking idea. Wilbur, please, you’re smarter than this. A second kingdom would only complicate things and confuse people. We’re all in the same boat. A boat that you’re rocking.” The king’s voice was even, calm, but there was something cold there, something sharp. Tubbo felt a shiver go down his spine.

  
Wilbur didn’t flinch though, and his voice didn’t tremble as he replied, “The boat’s sinking Dream. If I have to rock it to get people to the lifeboats, so be it.”

  
Dream’s eyes hardened, the smile on his mask suddenly harsh and sinister. “Wilbur. You’ve turned my husband to be against me, plotted a revolution and chose to withdraw from my invitation of peace. I’ll ask one more time. Step. Down.”

  
Wilbur simply reached into his pocket, pulling out a small book. On the front, embroidered into the leather, the words ‘Declaration Of Independence of L’Manberg’ could be clearly seen. “We would rather die.”

  
Dream’s spine went rod straight, and his hands clenched. “Very well. If you’d prefer death, that can be arranged. I, King Dream, of the Royal Kingdom of SMP, declare war on the _shitstain_ L’Manchildberg. From this moment hence, you and all your little rebel friends will be treated as enemies of the state.”

  
Wilbur’s eyes widened, but otherwise, he had no reaction. Upon receiving no response, Dream shook his head and spun on his heel, his cloak swirling behind him as he strode off. As soon as he’d entered the woods, Wilbur slumped, nearly collapsing, and Tubbo let out a shudder. Tommy, on the other hand, looked invigorated, letting out a laugh.

  
“Did you hear that boys? We’re officially at war with his royal bitch! L’Manberg is happening, boys!”

  
Tubbo shuddered. “Wilbur? What now?”  
Wilbur took in a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut. And then he opened them, straightening, his face setting into a careful neutral. “We have to tell the others. I don’t know if they’ll stick with us, but we’re going to need them to understand what we’re getting into.”

They gathered at the bakery, disquieted mumbles breaking out at the sight of their leader slumped in a chair. There were more of them, now. The original six had been joined by nearly forty others, including a young man named Jack, who was currently seated next to Tubbo, hand on his shoulder in a placating gesture.

  
Wilbur looked around the room, eyes stopping on each face individually, before he stood and the murmurs died down, and the revolutionaries turned to him expectantly as he began to speak.  
“When we started this, I promised each of you that there would be no bloodshed. We would all be allowed to leave freely, and create a new home, a safe haven.” He let out a sigh, eyes closing. “This morning, Dream came to my house. I announced our plans to emancipate, and in return… he has declared war on us.”

  
The bakery erupted with noise, Niki letting out a distressed cry, Eret laughing incredulously, but Fundy shook his head, slowly at first, but then with more fervor as he slammed his hands on the table and stood, eyes fixed on his father, grief and disbelief clear on his face.

  
Wilbur’s face looked pained as he raised his hand for silence. “I will tell you this. If we choose, you can surrender. No one will fight in this war if they don’t want to. I’ve reached out to him, and he promised that anyone who backs out now will be granted forgiveness and will be allowed to return to the SMP. If that is what you choose, I can not blame you. However. It’s important that you understand why I have chosen to emancipate. Why I do not trust King Dream.” He stopped, looking at Fundy, who was still standing, fingernails digging into the table, eyes staring blankly ahead.

  
“Dream and his goons have wired the entire city with explosives. If they were to set them off, everyone would die. They claim it’s for precaution, but I’m sure what exactly they’re precautions against. They recently started wiring to detonate the explosives on the west wing side, and I decided that was the final straw. We don’t know what their plans for the bombs are, or their motivations, but we do know that if they were to do this, a lot of people will die, become homeless, and many more would be injured.”

  
The room was silent, people taking in the information, and finally, Jack stood, his hand leaving Tubbo’s shoulder and moving to his heart. “I stand with L’Manberg.”

  
Eret stood, a small smile on her face as they placed their hand on his chest. “I stand with L’Manberg.”

  
Slowly, everyone stood, repeating the mantra. Some seemed hesitant- Niki was trembling violently, her voice shaky- while others were more confident- Tommy’s declaration rang loudly through the room. Tubbo said his with a shaky voice and a queasy stomach and then there was one.

Fundy stood alone, his eyes distant and his body slumped. Finally, he spoke.  
“Is this the right thing Wilbur? Leaving this… leaving him. Who’s in the wrong here?” Fundy’s eyes focused on Wilbur, and Tubbo felt the question in his gaze.

Wilbur melted, a sad smile on his face. “Fundy, my son. My little champion. I can’t make this decision for you. This is up to you.”

  
Fundy stared at him for a bit longer, before he stood, his eyes hardening. “Alright then. I stand with L’Manberg.”

  
Tommy let out a whoop that made everyone jump to stare at him, but the mood lightened. People relaxed, a quiet murmur rumbling through the room. People started sitting down and turning to chat with their friends. Jack squeezed Tubbo’s shoulder one last time before he went to talk to Wilbur. Tubbo sat, his shoulders slumping a bit.

  
He wasn’t a hero. He knew that. With a friend like Tommy, of course he knew that. The brothers were the heroes, with Tommy’s courage and Wilbur’s brain. Tommy got them into trouble and Wilbur got them out of it. Wilbur would have ideas, and Tommy would execute them. They were a pair. And Tubbo just showed up. He showed up, and he cheered them on, and he looked pretty. He never really had thoughts on their schemes, he just smiled and nodded. This time, though, it was different.

  
Dream really wasn’t a good king. He was greedy and self obsessed, and way too confident. If he had plans to destroy half the kingdom, Tubbo had no problem believing he would do it. They had to usurp him. They had to get out, and they had to take as many people as possible with them. Wilbur was right. Dream couldn’t be trusted.

The rebels didn’t have much. They had swords, and bows, and a couple of them had crossbows, and about half of them had armour. Dream didn’t have an army, of course. Why would he, there had never been a need for one. Unfortunately, he did have a royal guard, which consisted of a dangerous pyromaniac and an incredible archer, both of whom would die for the king, gladly.

  
So it was around three dozen farmers against the three best warriors in the land. The chances of this turning out well were almost nil, but as Tubbo looked around the room, it occurred to him that if he were to die, this is how he’d want to go. Surrounded by people he loved and cared for, and who loved and cared for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhhhhhhhhbbbbb blease leave a comment? also next chapter should be a lot more emotional, lol


	5. Growing Closer and Falling Apart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this might literally be the longest chapter i've made so far.
> 
> also! since eret uses all pronouns, i've been trying to shuffle through them, but if it gets too confusing, i'll stop.

Wilbur’s eyes hurt. He had been squinting at the parchment in front of him for far too long, and his only pair of glasses had been cracked a few days ago, so he had to wait for them to be repaired. It occurred to him that the glasses maker may not welcome his service for much longer, if he continued to cause such a ruckus. He let out a sigh, rubbing at his face, before standing and shoving the pile of papers on his desk into a leather folder and pushing his chair in. 

The tent was too small for his liking, but he didn’t want to use his already cramped home. Besides, all the others were living and working out of tents, so he had to at least do his best.

Speaking of the others, he heard laughter outside his tent, and the smell of a campfire. His stomach rumbled, making him realise how long it had been since he’d last eaten. He pushed open the flat to his tent, shivering in the cool night air. His little army was scattered around the camp, the other five leaders sitting around a fire in the middle. As soon as Tommy spotted him, he raised an arm and smiled brightly. 

“Hey Wilbur! We have bread and steak, if you’re hungry!”

Wilbur’s stomach growled, reminding him how long it’d been since he’d had a good meal. So he joined them, sitting between Fundy and Tommy, and grabbing a hunk of bread from the younger boy. “Thank you.”

Niki looked at him, her long blond hair sliding over her shoulder as she tilted her head at him. “Hey, Wil? Can I ask what you’ve been doing in there all this time? You haven’t left your tent all day.”

He shrugged a bit, looking down at the food in his hand. “Plans, tactics. This is war, and not one we can afford to use.”

The group went quiet, everyone finding something else to look at, until Fundy spoke up. “So. Why are we doing this, again? I know, Wilbur doesn’t trust Dream with power, and he’s worried about the people, and he doesn’t like how Dream and his goons are always breathing down everyone’s backs, but that isn’t the whole story. That isn’t everyone’s goal, is it?”

Eret raised an eyebrow at him, nudging him with his knee. “Why are you doing this? What’s your goal?”

The smaller man looked up at them, before letting out a small sigh. “I just want my fiance back. We’ve been engaged for nearly a year, and every time I think it’s finally going to happen, something comes up. Some kingly responsibility. I haven’t seen him laugh in months. I just… If this works. If I leave, maybe he’ll realise how much I mean to him, and he’ll step down.” He snorted a bit. “And I don’t think he’s a good king either, which doesn’t help.”

The group laughed, turning to Niki as she started speaking. “I don’t like how much control he and his friends have. They know exactly what’s going on at all times, and if they don’t like it, they raid. I had a small party in the bakery a couple years back, and that asshole Sapnap must’ve been bored, or cranky, or something, because he showed up with a torch and threatened to burn it down. And Dream didn’t do a thing.”

Wilbur felt Fundy squirm against his side, and patted his knee. He wasn’t even sure why he considered Fundy to be his son. He was 19 years old, barely younger than Wilbur, honestly, but Wil had adopted him as his own. After all, at the end of the day, everyone needs a dad. 

Tubbo was speaking now, his eyes fixed on the fire. “I think Dream is really really unfair. He doesn’t hold his friends responsible for their actions. Ponk and Alyssa started that fight. Tommy got dragged in, but he’s the only one who got in trouble. It’s unfair.”

Tommy let out a shout. “Yeah! The bastard’s got it out for me!” He tossed a stick into the fire, scowling at the flames. “I mostly just want things to change. I’m sick of his stupid rules, ad being treated like a criminal, when I’m just trying to even the playing field.”

Wilbur clapped at this, nodding at his brother, who lit up like a fireworks display. “Well said, Tommy.” He turned to the last member of the resistance. “Eret? What’s your motivation?”

Eret leaned in, her gaze on the steak she had sizzling on the fire. “To be honest? I want him out. He may be a good man deep inside, but he’s not a very good king. I want someone competent. Someone who genuinely cares about the country. Not some asshole who’s ruling because he thinks it’s funny.” The man’s head lifted and Wilbur thought, just for a second, he could see their eyes behind the sunglasses. “I’ll fight for anyone who can pull this country from ruin.”

They were quiet for a moment, before Wilbur clapped loudly, making everyone jump and stare at him. “Enough sad talk. I want more bread, and that steak smells good.” Tubbo laughed, and the mood lifted, even if only by a bit. He relaxed a bit, looking around at the others, a small grin on his face. Family was found.

Wilbur and Fundy went fishing a lot more, now that food was low. The red head was better at catching fish, but Wilbur was more patient, and caught more. They would sit on the dock all day in silence, and watch the leaves fall into the pond. Fundy’s hair was getting longer, and his hands were more steady, but Wilbur couldn’t help but see the skinny kid who had stolen bread from his bag four years ago. It was odd, knowing his son was growing up. But it didn’t matter. He was his little champion, and always would be. 

Eret would drop in some days to help with tactics. Wilbur ended up growing closer to the other man, and learning more about them. They had a severe photosensitivity issue, which is why they wore the sunglasses, and they liked flowers and butterflies. One day, as they were working, Wilbur looked up at them and for the first time, really took in what he saw. She had scars around her eyes, and crooked fingers, and their hair was frizzy from neglect, but the way they carried themself made it clear that they weren’t afraid of anything. This was their war, and they were going to fight it.

He also got closer to Niki. She was a lot smaller and softer than the others, and mostly worked on keeping morale up and food supplies aplenty, but she had a genuine care for the ragtag team of rebels. The two of them would spend hours by the fire talking. She told him about her little brother, who’d gotten sick a few years ago, and how she was trying to figure out how to bring him into the city, with all the rules the king had, especially against the ill. He, in turn, regaled her with tales of growing up in the outskirts of his father, and Tommy, and their big brother, and his best friend, who had conned him out of three golden apples and a knife. She listened, and laughed, and told him that when the war was over, they could all live safely and happily in L’Manberg, and he believed her.

Tommy and Tubbo remained tight as thieves. They would climb trees, and pick flowers, and Tubbo made a little boat. Wilbur watched them chase chickens, and he realised how young they were. Tommy had only just turned 16, and Tubbo was still a good few months from being 17. He felt a twinge of guilt in his stomach. He shouldn’t have dragged them into this. But then Tommy saw him, and gave him a half sarcastic salute, and he realised that they would’ve gotte themselves involved. Hell, when Wilbur left home, he’d had to leave at midnight to keep the kid from following, and even then, 13 year old Tommy had stolen their brother’s horse to catch up with him. Vaguely, he wondered if their brother ever found out, if he’d ever returned home to find his most prized stallion missing. He doubted it. The eldest was pretty dead set on never returning.

By the third week of living in the woods, the walls were almost complete. L’manberg had a few hundred citizens at this point and it was nice to get help. Eret had designed and sewed outfits for the founders, tailored specifically to their tastes. 

Wilbur’s was simple, yet beautiful, with a dark blue coat and pants, and a black vest with golden embroidery. Tommy’s was the same color, and looked pretty similar except for the red collar and leather accents. Tubbo’s was a soft cotton, and a lighter blue. His vest was a pale yellow, and his belt a dark green. Niki’s was dark grey, with silver embroidery on the coat, and a skirt that twirled around her knees. Fundy’s was all pastel, with small flowers embroidered on the sleeves. Watching him laugh as he hugged Eret made Wilbur’s heart warm. Eret’s suit was slim, almost form fitting, her coat a dull blue, and the belt was grey. Their skirt was longer than Niki’s; fluttering around their boots. 

Altogether, they actually looked really good, like a real army, and the morale was at an all time high. 

And then, it all went to hell.

Wilbur woke one morning to yelling, and movement outside his tent. Quickly, the general grabbed his boots and coat and ran out, his sword left forgotten. 

Three heavily armored men stood on the wall, looking down at the rebels. Dream’s cape swayed in the wind, his mask betraying no emotion. His companions, on the other hand, where bare faced,and their expressions gave it away. Sapnap was on his right, a torch in one hand and a sword in the other. His dark hair brushed over his forehead, held back though it was by a strip of white cloth. His grin was sinister, and his eyes glittered in excitement. George looked more passive, a slight frown on his face as he looked down at them. His goggles were around his neck, revealing his mismatched eyes. Wilbur felt something in his stomach tighten as they made eye contact. 

“What are you doing here, Dream?” He yelled, stepping forward, fist clenched by his side. The king wasn’t intimidated, looking down at the other man. For a second, Wilbur thought he saw the monarch’s eyes stray over to Fundy, but then they were fixed on Wil once again.

“I gave you a chance to step down. I gave you every opportunity to surrender. I have been patient, and merciful, but you have refused every offer.” The man’s voice carried around the clearing, silencing the nervous whispers of the rebels. “However. I will grant you one last choice.”

Tommy pushed his way through the crowd until he stood next to his brother, glaring up at the tyrant king, who returned the cold gaze. 

Suddenly, the calm, regal facade was gone, and Dream leaned forward, his voice an unravelled scream. “We have NO MERCY! NO MERCY FOR YOU! WE WILL BURN DOWN YOUR HOUSES! WE WILL KILL EVERYTHING INSIDE YOUR WALLS AND WE WILL TAKE BACK THE LAND THAT IS RIGHTFULLY OURS! IF YOU DO NOT SURRENDER- I WANT TO SEE WHITE FLAGS! WHITE FLAGS OUTSIDE OF YOUR BASE, BY TOMORROW, AT DAWN, OR YOU ARE DEAD!”

Wilbur felt a chill run down his spine, but he mustered the courage to yell back. “Give us liberty, or give us death. We would rather die than join your kingdom.”

Dream froze. He looked down at his old friend, his father-in-law to be, the revolutionary. And then, suddenly quiet and still, he nodded stiffly. “Fine. Sapnap?”

Sapnap’s grin reappeared, and he held out the torch and dropped it. The rebels watched it fall, tumbling end over end, until it landed in a bush. There was a pause, then the telltale hiss of tnt igniting. Wilbur let out a yell, shoving Tommy to the ground, just as the earth was ripped apart by a deafening explosion. 

It wasn’t just one bundle of explosives. There must’ve been dozens, buried under the soil, each igniting the next. Wilbur laid over Tommy, shielding him from the blast, his eyes closed tightly. He felt shrapnel slice his cheek, and his grip on his brother tightened. When the noise died down, he could hear laughter. High pitched, wheezy, and absolutely insane. Dream.

For a moment, it was still, the sound of Dream’s laugh and the dirt and stone settling the only sound. Then, Wilbur was shoved away, and Tommy stood up to glare at the king. His eyebrow was gashed open, his lip split, and his wrist was bent at an odd angle, but he stood tall. 

“You want to see flags? You want to see flags?!” He hobbled forward, reaching into the leather bag on his back. He pulled out the flag he and Fundy had designed, pulling it out and brandishing it at Dream. “How’s this for a flag, you bastard?!”

Dream’s laughter died, and he shook his head. “I’ll see you in the battle field, gentlemen.” and with that, he was gone, his men following behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please leave comments im literally begging.


	6. Of War and Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tubbo thought war was dumb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know it's been a while but, hear me out: shut the hell up.
> 
> i had to ask my history teacher what sword fighting in combat during the midevel ages was like, and it ended up being pretty informative
> 
> !tw for: blood and death mentions (nothing explicit)!

The first real battle took place nearly a month later. Things were getting cooler, and the flowers in Tubbo’s garden had started dying. He missed the color, but he knew they’d be replaced by a soft blanket of snow, which was even more beautiful. Wilbur didn’t like the cold, and spent even more time huddled in his tent working.

Building had been going well, with three complete two story buildings done, and one mostly finished. Fundy was partially in charge of construction, and under his watchful eye, the buildings sprang up like flowers in spring. 

Tommy helped with anything he could, making little stores of food, and helping Wilbur with plans (he mostly just complained about how dark it was in the tent, and spilled ink on his new uniform, but Tubbo knew he meant well.)

It shouldn’t have been a surprise when Dream announced they’d be meeting for battle, it was long overdue. They were to meet in the SMP. One army against another. It wasn’t supposed to be too chaotic, rules had been set, no TNT, no potions, take all your warriors. If you die, your stuff is free to take. Anyone risking permadeath should sit out, but they could fight if they really wanted to.

It was fair. 

Tubbo was nervous anyway. War wasn’t really his strong suit. He liked flowers, gardening, and bees. He liked making traps to prank his friends, and hanging out with his older brother, Sam, who had made it a point not to get involved with the war. He liked talking to the weird potato farmer who lived over the mountains about plants. He knew this was war, and there was going to be violence, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

Tubbo thought war was stupid.

The day before the battle, he and Tommy met on a bench on a hill, outside of L’Manburg, but not quite in the SMP, and they just sat there.

Tommy was always warm, and even when they weren’t touching, Tubbo could feel the heat off of the taller boy’s body, and any fears he’d had dissipated. “Tommy?” He asked, carefully, getting a grunt in lieu of reply, “Are you scared?”

Tommy laughed, “No, of course not!”

Tubbo turned to look at him, waiting.

Tommy shifted a bit, before speaking again, refusing eye contact with the older boy. “Look, Tubbo, I- Ok, I’m a little scared, but we both have three lives! What’s the worst that could happen?”

Tubbo leaned back. “Wilbur doesn’t have all his lives. Besides, he says death hurts more than anything else on earth, man. That doesn’t bug you?”

Tommy sighed, sitting back. “It doesn’t matter whether it bugs me or not, it’s happening anyway.”

The two sat in silence before Tommy barked out a laugh, shaking his head. “Enough heavy shit. Wanna go see if we can trap a pig in a boat?”

Tubbo responded immediately. “I can’t believe you had to ask, man.”

Tubbo thought war was stupid.

They prepared early the next morning. Tommy was laughing more, clearly excited at the prospect of fighting. Wilbur moved robotically, almost, his eyes staring off into space. Fundy kept checking supplies, darting around the camp anxiously. Niki was sitting out- she was more of a healer than a warrior- but she anxiously chewed her lips as she watched her friends prepare for battle. Eret was calmer, taking control when Wilbur had to sit down for a bit; his voice was nice, the same accent as Wilbur and Tommy and Tubbo, but so much deeper. Tubbo felt himself relax as the tall man dished out commands.

They met at noon. Dream had gotten a small army of mercenaries mostly, but Tubbo also recognized Punz, Ponk, and… Purpled? Their friend stood in the back, his armor poorly fitted to his lanky frame, his helmet held under his arm. Faintly, Tubbo felt Tommy grab his hand. So he’d seen him too. Tubbo felt something in his chest twinge.

Wilbur and Dream met in the middle, having a short conversation. Dream laughed at something Wilbur said, making the older man tense up, and the king turned to leave, walking back to his side. The opposing general turned as well, his movements short and choppy. He walked back to them, before turning to face the other army. 

“L’Manburg, advance!”

It was nothing like the stories. It wasn’t organised, or elegant. He’d always heard of war like it made sense, but this didn’t.

There were people pressed against him on every side, shoving him forward. When the front lines met, it was chaos. He tried to fight, at first, but he really couldn’t tell which side was which, and gave up. He couldn’t find Tommy, although he saw Wilbur and Dream locked in a duel in the middle of the battle field, with Eret backing Wilbur up, as he always did.

Tubbo thought war was stupid.

Tubbo felt someone slam into him, and he fell, curling into a ball on the ground, covering his head and trying to make himself smaller, more unassuming. It worked, more or less, and he laid there for what felt like hours, listening to the battle rage around and above him, trying so desperately not to cry, not to be weak, although him laying in the mud wasn’t exactly a show of strength.

The battle sounds died out, until the only sound was cries from the wounded, and someone calling for him. 

He sat up, rubbing a sore rib where someone had stepped on him, and looked around. There were more SMP soldiers up and about, and he thought he recognized a few, but he couldn’t be sure, with the blood and mud caking everyone from head to toe. 

“Tubbo!”

He turned, immediately getting tackled back down, Tommy clinging to him in relief and fear. Tommy was never afraid. “I thought I’d lost you.”

The second battle took place a week later, Wilbur calling it this time, bitter from their previous loss. Morales were low as the men prepared equipment, and once again, Tommy and Tubbo met on the bench. 

This time, no words were exchanged as they just sat there, hands entwined, listening to Tommy’s music discs. It was cooler than it had been a week previous, but Tommy was warmer, his skin almost feverish to the touch. Tubbo closed his eyes, leaning into his friend. 

Tubbo thought war was stupid.

He never understood the need for fighting. Battles were just two groups whaling on each other until someone called a truce and they all went home. War was just battle after battle until whoever suffered the most sat down and shut up. He thought it was dumb.

The battle went well. Not perfectly, mind you, they lost several soldiers, some to permadeath, but the main six were okay, and they won, so it was good. Morals raised, but they dropped right away when Dream called for another battle.

Tubbo thought that war was stupid.

It wasn’t about winning anymore. Now it was just a spat between Dream and Wilbur, each trying to flaunt their strengths, out-do the other., regardless of who was hurt. Fudy saw this, Tubbo knew from the way he looked at his father, with a bitterness in his eye. He didn’t like violence much either, Tubbo knew. Eret noticed, but when Tubbo asked what he thought, he just shook his head. 

No one else noticed. They all thought this was about L’Manburg. Tubbo didn’t feel like telling anyone. 

Wilbur was a good man, a good leader, far better than Dream, but he was proud. He was stubborn. He was one of Tubbo’s best friends, and the boy knew him well enough to know he truly cared about L’Manburg. He truly cared about the people. Just maybe not as much as he cared about himself. Tubbo trusted him to make the right decision.

The right decision was made about four months into the conflict, when Wilbur announced he had chosen a right hand man.

Tommy.

No one was surprised. Tommy was excitable and impulsive, but he was loyal, and knew more about fighting than almost everyone. 

That didn’t make it easier on some people. Tubbo noticed Fundy’s expression as his own father brushed him aside; or Eret’s shoulders tensing as he was ignored after all the work he’d put into the resistance; or Niki’s frown as she watched a child be put in charge of a war.

Tubbo saw this, but it was all drowned out by the smile on his best friend’s face. Tommy was glowing as he shook Wilbur’s hand, and hugged Jack, and then walked up to Tubbo, grabbing his hands. “I’m his right hand man, Tubs!”

Tubbo smiled back, all the worries fading from his mind like snow in the sun. “Yeah, you are, man!”

Tommy no longer had time to sit with Tubbo on the bench, but he didn’t mind much. He knew his best friend was busy, he couldn’t fault him for that. One day, though, on Tubbo’s seventeenth birthday, someone else appeared. 

Tubbo was looking at the sunset and thinking when he heard footsteps behind him. Quickly, he twisted around, afraid Dream or one of his goons had found him. Instead, the sight of the hulking figure of a man behind him brought a smile to his face. He waved slightly, before turning back to the horizon, once again relaxing. 

Sam sat, the bench flexing under him, just a bit. He didn’t say anything, just rubbing his hands together, staring down at the SMP below. Tubbo waited. Sam was quiet, sure, but he wouldn’t have come out here if he didn;t have something to say.

Finally, he spoke, slowly, formulating his words carefully. “I’m leaving town.” Tubbo turned, not entirely surprised, waiting for more. Sam let out a sigh, still not looking at the boy. “War… Violence… I moved here to get away from it. To be safe. I’ll return someday. Just… for now, I need to get away.”

Tubbo nodded. “Ok. I understand. I’ll write you, when it’s safe. Do you want me to tell the other two?”

Sam shook his head. “No, I told Bad, and I don’t think Punz wants to talk to me. Look, Tubbo, I…” He paused, before turning to look the younger boy in the eye. “Tubbo, I need you to promise that you’re going to be safe, ok? You need to promise that you’re not going to get hurt, or risk it all. You’re going to be ok. Ok?”

Tubbo looked back at him. He couldn't promise that, of course. Part of war was risking things, risking your life. He had no choice in the matter. Still, he scooted closer, throwing his arms around his older brother and holding him tight. “Yeah, I promise.”

He cried himself to sleep that night.

Tubbo was getting braver. He actually fought instead of hiding, now. Fundy taught him to hold a sword, to fire a bow. He trained in the snow, in the cold, and in the rain, when spring came. Things were going to be ok, he thought, they could do this. They could win.

It had been six months since Tommy’s trial when Dream changed the rules. He blew up half of the SMP in battle, laughing as the damage spread. Fundy looked on in horror as the man he loved destroyed the bakery he lived for. Dream’s army was getting nervous, George and Sapnap glancing at each other behind Dream’s back.

L’Manburg celebrated that night. Wilbur announced that it couldn’t be long now. The people no longer trusted Dream. The tyrant’s rule was falling apart.

Morale had never been lower. 

Tubbo thought war was dumb.

The next battle was the last. The SMP soldiers fought viciously, destroying L’Manburg easily. Whatever Dream had done to motivate them had worked. As they limped home, licking their wounds, Eret pulled Tommy, Tubbo, Wilbur and Fundy aside, to tell them he had a plan. A secret weapon.

Wilbur looked relieved, hope filling his eyes. “Thank you, Eret. You always have my back.”

Tommy looked excited, a laugh spilling from his lips. “Holy shit, Big Man, really?!”

Fundy looked exhausted, but he smiled at his best friend. “Will this really help us win?”

Eret nodded slowly. “I think this is the best way forward. The road to success is paved in hope, gentlemen.”

Tubbo thought war was dumb.

As he followed Eret through the woods, he couldn’t help but hope that it was over, that they’d won.

Tommy grabbed his hand, entwining their fingers and grinning at him. Tubbo grinned back.

Things were going to be ok, he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please leave a comment. please.


	7. The Final Control Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilbur liked Eret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here. have this.

Wilbur was tired. He was so, so tired. His head hurt, his eyes were heavy, and his leg had gotten a pretty nasty gash during the fight. So, when Eret had offered a temporary solution, a possible win, he’d agreed. Of course he’d agreed, he needed a break. He needed someone else to step in, take charge, let him sit back.

Eret was a capable man. She was smart, and knew what she was doing. She was firm, but not mean, and driven, but not greedy. She was also nearly as tall as him, which added intimidation when necessary. Wilbur liked Eret, he decided.

She led them through the woods, and down to the wall. She turned, a couple of times, to smile reassuringly at them. Tommy kept asking her questions, excitedly trying to pry the secret out of her, but she would just shake her head and deflect the question. “This way, gentlemen.” Her voice rang through the trees, deep and calm. 

Fundy leaned on her a bit, their arms looping together. Tubbo and Tommy were holding hands. Wilbur was a bit lonely without Niki, but it was alright. When they got back to camp, he’d tell her everything.

Eret’s secret began with a tunnel.

It was near Wilbur’s house, and not far from camp, but it was well hidden. She let go of Fundy, striding into the darkness with a confidence that Wilbur had never seen on her. She was in her element. They followed the tall man, followed her down the tunnel, down the stairs. Tommy finally managed to get some information out of her, but not exactly what he wanted, only a quiet laugh and a “they won’t suspect a thing,” almost to herself. She slowed down as they approached the end of the tunnel but with one last glance at them, she led them into the room.

It was small, made of blackstone, and its walls slimy with moisture. Chests bearing their names lined the walls, and a small button rested on the far wall. Wilbur frowned a bit, underwhelmed by the dank smell and dim lighting, but Eret beamed. “Gentlemen, welcome to the Final Control Room.”

Fundy laughed a bit at his friend’s theatics, and turned in a circle. “This is it?”

Eret nodded, gesturing to the chests that lined the wall. “This is where the war ends, Fundy.”

The chests were large, big enough to fit a suit of armour, and Wilbur crossed the room to his, cracking it open. He turned to frown at Eret in confusion, but she leaned against the wall calmly. “The chests are empty.”

Tommy was looking at the button, but looked up at that. Tubbo opened his chest as well, and blinked in confusion. Fundy looked up at Eret in concern. She merely smiled, and walked over to Tommy.

“Ok, I’ll be honest, the chests aren't the main attraction.” She slung an arm over Tommy’s shoulder and smiled at the group. “This is.” She slammed her fist into the button and everything went to shit.

Wilbur heard something in the back of his mind, a quiet, monotone voice. 

“All warfare is based in deception.” 

It was too late.

The door slammed shut behind them, sealing immediately, and four more doors opened in the walls, and figures stepped out. 

Dream, Sapnap, George and Punz were dressed in full netherite, their drawn weapons shimmering with enchantments. There was a pause, a moment of confusion, before Tommy wrenched away from Eret, turning to face her. “YOU.”

She laughed, her hand moving up to her forehead in a mock salute. “Down with the revolution, boys. It was never meant to be.”

Wilbur let out a scream, tripping backwards. Punz stalked towards him, raising his crossbow. 

The blond man’s face was grim, his lips set in a thin line. 

In the corner of his eyes, Wilbur saw Dream kick Tommy in the knee, forcing him to the ground. 

Tubbo was grasped by the neck by Sapnap and slammed into the wall and George already had his crossbow aimed at Fundy’s head. 

Wilbur gazed up at Punz, terrified brown eyes meeting determined blue. 

Some part of him told him to get up, draw his weapon. Don’t go down without a fight. So he did.

Punz hesitated when the general raised his sword, but then he raised his bow. He was close enough that if he fired, it would be incredibly painful. Wilbur was undeterred, and after a quick stare-down, he struck. He ducked to the ground, just in time to feel the bolt whistle above him. He swung his foot, catching Punz in the ankle to the ground, and then he was on top of the man, swinging his sword down. A boot caught him in the side, though, sending him sprawling. He looked up to see Dream, staring down at him, expression unfathomable behind the mask. 

Sapnap let out a yell as Tubbo kicked him in the balls, and doubled over. The younger boy gasped, tumbling forward, grabbing Tommy who laid limply on the ground, and managed to get him upright enough to walk. Fundy managed to twist away from George, and body slammed the door, forcing it to open. Eret was still leaning against the wall, watching her ex-allies scramble in fear. Dream watched the three go, axe still leveled at Wilbur’s neck, before he backed up, kneeling to pick up the man’s sword.

“Go follow your friends, Soot. Run like the little coward you are.”

He did. He turned and ran, down the hall, up the stairs, into the night. He let out a shuddering sob, feeling his lungs fill with air.

They collapsed after a while, unable to go any further. Fundy curled up on the ground, thin body wracked with sobs. Tubbo leaned on a tree, tears pouring down his face, gasping for breath. Wilbur knew he was crying too, feeling his cheeks grow wet. He wiped them away. He couldn’t cry. He had to think of something. He had to come up with a plan. He was the oldest, the only adult here. He had to-

“Fuck!” Tubbo let out a shriek, the first noise he’d made since the control room, and shoved himself off the tree. He stumbled a bit, but caught himself. “Eret you bastard, we trusted you, what the fuck?!”

Wilbur turned, and there she was. Flanked by Dream and his cronies, she stood in the clearing, looking at them, the picture of calm. Her uniform was gone, replaced with a dress shirt and a simple pair of slacks. 

Tubbo stumbled towards her, his fists wrapping in the fabric of her shirt, leaning into her chest, choking on tears and snot. “You said you were going to keep us safe…”

The man’s face changed a bit, her eyebrows drawing together, her eyes flicking to Dream, who watched passively. She looked back at Tubbo, and her face set again. “I’m sorry, Tubbo. You have to understand. I’m sick of listening to other people. He offered me the crown.” She planted a hand on Tubbo’s fists, untangling them from her front, and shoved him away. “I’m going to be king, Tubbo.”

Suddenly, Tommy spoke, voice garbled with his inevitable concussion, his movements choppy as he pushed himself to his feet. “Eret. Eret, listen to me. I mean this in the nicest way possible… You fucked up.”

Dream laughed a bit, shaking his head, and the teen’s eyes fixed on him.

“Shut up. Shut the fuck up.” The boy’s voice went from a whisper to a scream, sadness replaced with rage. “SHUT UP. YOU STUPID GREEN BITCH. You think you’re so cool, you think you’re so powerful?!”

Wilbur saw George unsheath his sword and rushed forward to quiet his brother. “Tommy. Tommy, calm.”

Tommy ignored him, sidestepping him to march up to the king. “You really think you’re so great, but you’re just a coward hiding behind a dumb mask. You aren’t that cool. Hell, I could take you in a duel, you know that? I could beat you so fucking easy.”

Dream stared back, his eyes dark behind the mask, not moving a muscle as the boy screamed at him. Wilbur stood behind Tommy, a hand on his arm, trying to pull him back, quiet him down.

Then Tommy spit. The glob of saliva splatted on Dream’s mask, and he reached up slowly to wipe it away. Tommy and Wilbur froze, and for a moment, the clearing was silent, not a sound escaping the lips of the men gathered. 

“You think you can beat me?” Dream’s voice was quiet, but it rang with a delicate precision. “You’re so sure that you’re better than me?”

Tommy didn’t respond, stepping back, pressing his back to Wilbur’s chest. Wilbur wrapped his arms around him in a comforting embrace. The king stepped closer, leaning down to get in Tommy’s face (when’d he get so tall?) and finally spoke. “A duel then. Sunrise. Prime Path. One arrow, one shot. You win? L’Manburg goes free. I win, and we burn this shit hole to the ground.”

Tommy tensed, and Wilbur tried to interject, started to say something, but he was shoved back, Tommy stepping up to stare Dream in the eye. “You’re on.”

Tubbo shouted something, but WIlbur couldn’t hear it though the pounding in his ears. 

Dream nodded, turning and stalking off into the woods. George followed, pulling his goggles down around his neck, a frown on his face. Punz looked shocked, his face even paler than usual as he turned to follow. Sapnap’s eyes were closed, and he let out a slow breath, turning and jogging after them. Eret was left, looking at her ex-friends, ex-allies. She opened her mouth to speak, then shut it, then shook her head. Her shoulders were slumped as she walked away. 

Wilbur couldn’t find it in himself to care. 

Fundy spoke, his voice strangled with tears. “I’m so calling off that fucking wedding.” It wasn’t funny. It really wasn’t, but suddenly Wilbur was laughing, Tubbo chuckled a bit, and Tommy started cackling. The boy’s laughter turned to sobs after a moment, and the youngest fell to the ground, pulling his arms over his head. 

They surrounded him, holding him, stroking his hair, mumbling reassurances. Wilbur felt Fundy press into his side, and lean his head against his shoulder. Tommy’s cries quieted to sniffles, and he stood. His mouth was a thin line of determination, and he sighed a bit, before nodding to Wilbur. 

“Ok. Ok, we’re going to do this.” 

Wilbur frowned. “Tommy, no. You can’t. We’re going to go to Dream, and we’re going to back out. It’s not worth it.”

Tommy shook his head. “I can do this Wilbur. I’m the best archer in L'Manburg. You said it yourself! We can’t afford to fight another battle, our men don’t trust us anymore. Trust me, Wil. It’ll be ok.”

Wilbur had to admit, he had a point. As he looked into his brother’s eyes, he knew he wasn’t going to win this one. He let out an exhausted sigh, but nodded. “You have to be careful.”

The duel took place on the Prime Path, which cut through the SMP. Everyone was there. Dream’s goons stood behind him, Eret among them. She wore a cape that dragged on the ground, a golden crown resting on her curly hair. Her glasses were gone, and as she looked at Wilbur with solid white eyes that couldn't possibly see anything, he felt a strange fear grip his throat.

Other than the armies, he noticed a few people who had since been uninvolved in the war sitting by to watch. Quackity, one of Tommy’s friends, stood in the shadows, almost like he was afraid to be seen there. Ponk, the man who’d started this whole conflict, stood with that Bad guy, who gazed out from under his hood with an odd intensity. More who he didn’t recognize were there, with varying levels of interest, expressions ranging between confusion to anger.

Niki was there too, with a bag of healing potions and an anxious look on her face. When she’d heard of Eret’s betrayal, she’d cried, maybe even more than Fundy, but now her face was dry. She had no time for grief. Wilbur liked Niki.

Tommy and Dream stood back to back, bows drawn, one arrow each. Wilbur let out a trembling breath, before climbing onto the makeshift podium. 

“Excuse me, everyone. This duel determines the final outcome of the war. If Tommy can kill Dream, L’Manburg gains independence. If Dream k-kills Tommy,” His voice cracked a bit, and he cleared his throat. “If Dream kills Tommy, the SMP will destroy L’Manburg, and everyone associated with the rebellion will be charged with treason.

“The rules of the duel are simple. Both of them will take ten paces, then turn and fire. If one dies, the duel is over. If neither dies, they will reload and continue until one does die. Gentlemen. Are you ready?”

Dream turned, nodding up at him. Something in his posture was tense, and his grip on the bow was tight. He was scared, Wilbur noted with satisfaction. So was Tommy, who smiled shakily up at him and nodded jerkily. 

Wilbur let out a breath. Tommy had three lives left still. It was going to be ok. It was. It had to be.

“One.”

Tubbo sucked in a breath, watching his best friend marching forward.

“Two.”

George pulled the goggles over his eyes, letting color soak into the world.

“Three.”

Fundy gnawed on his lip, tasting blood as his teeth split the skin.

“Four.”

Sapnap’s fist clenched so hard he felt the joints pop.

“Five.”

Niki’s grip on her bag tightened, watching Tommy pull back the arrow.

“Six.”

Punz wondered why he was here, why he’d agreed to this.

“Seven.”

Wilbur’s throat burned with anxiety, but he fought to keep his tone neutral.

“Eight.”

Eret rubbed their neck, no longer sure who to root for.

“Nine.”

Tommy’s eyes burned with unshed tears and his hand shook violently.

“Ten paces, fire.”

Dream desperately hoped they didn’t fuck this up, fuck everything up, as they whirled and released the arrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did i casually slip in non-binary dream at the end there? yes. yes i did. 
> 
> please leave comments. please.


	8. Loses and Wins (End of Arc 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The outcome of the duel, and of the war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ayyy it's christmas, you know what that means! 
> 
> child trauma!
> 
> tw for: death

Tommy’s first shot soared over Dream’s head, not that the king did much better. His shot embedded itself in the wood at Tommy’s feet, and he stumbled back, pulling out another arrow. His hand shook too violently for him to actually ready it, and it clattered to the ground. Before he could even stoop to pick it up, or pull another from the quiver, Dream’s second shot slammed into his shoulder. 

It hurt. It hurt so bad, and he screamed, falling back. Dream had already fetched a third arrow, and it was aimed at his head. Tommy blinked up at him, and then the arrow was released. 

Darkness. 

It was so so dark, and it was cold. And it hurt. Every atom in his body screamed in pain, every molecule fighting to reawaken from an end that was meant to be permanent, trying to pull him from the void of death.

Wilbur had always described his first death with so much pain, his voice strained as he described the feeling of his lungs filling with freezing water, his heart being pierced with a trident, his world going dark, and then the respawn was brushed over, him simply waving his hand and saying it’d hurt. 

That was an understatement.

People weren’t supposed to come back from death. This void, this darkness. It wasn’t supposed to be seen. He wasn't supposed to be here, but because of this land’s magic, he was.

God, he wished he weren’t. 

The pain was searing, and he wondered if it was supposed to take this long. If it was supposed to hurt this much. He was starting to think that the respawn had failed, and he’d be trapped here forever, in the darkness, in the agony.

And then there was light, searing, burning, and his lungs were filled with air, and he was screaming.

Tubbo held him close, murmuring things to him, things meant to be comforting, but Tommy couldn’t hear over the pain in his head. 

It finally died down, enough for Tommy to take a deep breath and wipe the tears he hadn’t even noticed sliding down his cheeks. Tubbo pulled back a bit, his hands threading through Tommy’s hair. The younger boy could hear what he was saying now, ramblings about bees, and redstone.

They sat there for a bit, just sitting together, Tubbo’s voice trailing off before long, until Tommy jerked away with a start. “Tubbo. Tubbo, I lost.” 

Tubbo looked away, his eyes avoiding Tommy’s. He looked around quickly, finding himself in a shoddy tent, the flaps closed. He rushed outside, ignoring Tubbo’s cry of “wait, don’t-” and stared around. This wasn’t L’Manburg. 

They were in the middle of the woods, a few tents scattered around. Fundy and Wilbur were sitting by a campfire, and looked up when Tommy came out. 

“How… how long was I out?” Tommy’s voice shook, but neither of them mentioned it.

“‘Bout a day.” Fundy responded slowly, his eyes careful, calculating. Faintly, Tommy noticed he wasn’t wearing his binder, and his hair was a mess. He looked like he’d been through hell. 

“Fuck… What happened to L’Manburg? He didn’t really…”

Wilbur shook his head. “Not yet. He’s given us a week. All L’Manburg citizens have returned to the SMP, except us. The five instigators. If caught in SMP territory, the punishment will be… grave.”

Death. Tommy swallowed, his face twisting a bit. “That bastard…” The men looked at him in confusion. “Dream… He thinks he can take our land?! He thinks- that bitch thinks he’s going to crush us, keep us out?!”

Fundy launched to his feet. “Tommy! He thinks he can, because he can! You- you’re the one who challenged him! You gave him our country on a platter, you surrendered our fucking freedom. And for what? A chance to brag?!” There was a pause, the man glaring at the boy with so much ferocity that for a moment, Tommy was scared. “You fucked up, Tommy. You fucked it all up.”

Fundy turned, marching into the woods, storming past Niki, who’d just come out of her tent. She stared after him, her eyes wide and confused. Tommy felt Wilbur touch his shoulder, and immediately grabbed his big brother into a hug. He had no more tears left to shed, but he shook a bit, his hands clawing at Wilbur’s back.

Dinner was stiff that night. They ate meat, and Tommy couldn’t find it in himself to ask where it came from. The four sat in a circle around the campfire, Tubbo occasionally trying to start a conversation, but he gave up after a bit.

The next few days went on the same way. Tommy felt like they were mad at him, but he didn’t know why. He hadn’t done anything wrong. Had he? No, he was just trying to help. He did his best, they couldn’t blame him for that. Right? They were just mad at Dream.

Tubbo tried to help people. He would go fishing sometimes, or get honey from the wild bees nests. He sat with Tommy, chatting aimlessly about his brothers, talking about how Sam used to make wonders out of redstone, how Bad made pets out of wild creatures. He also talked about a strange man who lived in the mountains, and farmed potatoes. He had come up with a whole backstory for the man, involving war, and misfortune, and Tommy happily ignored him.

Wilbur played his guitar sometimes. He didn’t sing anymore, just stared at the ground, coaxing sad melodies out, strumming until his fingers bled and Niki took the instrument from him and made him help her with laundry, or hunting. He didn’t talk much, and when he did, it was hollow, a few words muttered under his breath, in response to someone asking him a question.

Fundy glared at Wilbur sometimes, his caramel eyes filling with an odd sort of anger, but when he noticed Tommy looking, he would turn the burning gaze on Tommy. He was a bit scared of the baker, he decided. He remembered a story Niki had told him, about how Fundy had ripped a zombie to shreds with his bare hands when they were younger. At the time Tommy had laughed. Fundy was shorter than him, and borderline skeletal. There was no way he’d killed something so easily, especially as an eleven year old. Now, he was starting to believe her.

Niki was the only one who was really aware of her surroundings, and not drowning in grief, or rage. She hunted, took care of camp, cooked, fought off monsters, gardened. She did everything, and faintly, Tommy felt guilty for not helping her. No, he had more important things to do, like planning revenge. 

He was going to go back there, and he was going to make Dream pay. He was going to challenge him to another duel, and this time, he was going to win. He was going to take L’Manburg back.

He told them this, one night, over lunch. He expected cheering, excitement, maybe some groveling. Not this. Fundy laughed, bitter and sharp. Tubbo and Niki looked horrified, their eyes wide as they gazed at him. And Wilbur… Wilbur looked mad.

“No. No, you are not going back there, Tommy.”

Tommy blinked at him in confusion. “...What?”

Wilbur stood, and Tommy was reminded of how unnaturally tall his brother was, looming over him. “Tommy, we lost. You keep coming up with plans, with ultimatums to present to Dream. We have no power over him, Tommy. We have nothing. If you set foot in there, they’ll kill you again, and then they’ll come for us. You can't just pick fights.” He turned back to his tent, but paused, spitting his next sentence over his shoulder. “We all have to make sacrifices, Tommy, but you’re giving up things that aren’t yours to surrender.”

Tommy felt his heart plunge. He watched Wilbur enter his tent; watched Fundy grin at him, smugly; watched Niki turn her head to the fire, avoiding his gaze; watched Tubbo stand to grab his arm as he whirled and ran to his own tent. 

They were right. He was risking their lives for what? His own pride? He was in the wrong. He was wrong. He… He had to do something though.

He sat on his cot, staring at the ground. He didn’t have anything Dream would want. He didn’t have anything. No, that’s not true. He reached for his bag, opening it and gazing inside. He only had two things that really meant anything to him. He wasn’t sure if Dream would care. He probably wouldn’t. But it was all Tommy had left.

He told Niki he was going to go down to the stream to fish. She nodded, pity in her eyes. He walked away, forcing himself to keep going, instead of turning back to hug her, cry into her arms. She was so nice, so calming. She’d help him. He couldn’t risk it though. This was his fight.

It was a long walk back to the SMP, but the walk from there to L’Manburg seemed even longer. His legs were heavy, and he felt his hands shake as he saw a familiar figure standing in the center of the camp.

“Hallo Dream.”

“Tommy. You’re not supposed to be here.”

The man gazed at Tommy, but it wasn’t malevolent. It was curious. The strange man leaned against a tree, languid, calm, face hidden by his mask, mysterious as ever.

Tommy let out a shaky breath. “I’m here to make a proposition. I have nothing left. You have taken away everything I have. Everything except this.” He held up the bag, watching Dream carefully as he pushed himself off the tree. “I came to give it to you.”

Dream tilted his head, eyes glittering from the darkness. “Your discs? I don’t understand. Why would I want those?”

Tommy felt something at the back of his throat tense, a sure sign of oncoming tears, but he cleared his throat. “Because I do.” 

“...I don’t follow.”

Tommy tossed the discs down at Dream’s feet. “The one thing I care about in the world is those discs. They mean more to me than my own life, than my own freedom. But L’Manburg? It’s… It’s more important than those discs, more important than me. I’m… I’m begging you…” He felt a tear slip out, and desperately scrubbed it away. “Those are all I have left. Dream, I just- I needed to show you how important L’Manburg is to me. This isn’t a game.”

Dream bent down, picking up the bag, opening it to check that the discs were there, then looked back up at the boy. “... More important than your freedom? What if I told you the only way to regain your country was to leave. Exile, forever. Forced to wander alone, for the rest of your lives.”

Tommy’s heart stopped, but he closed his eyes, nodding. 

There was a silence, before Dream spoke quietly. “Is it really that important to you?”

His eyes opened, and his mind blanked at what he saw. Dream had taken off his mask to look at him. His eyes were greener than he’d expected, and he had little freckles sprinkled across his cheeks. But the part that made Tommy pause was the scars, stretching from the corners of Dream’s mouth to his ears, forming a macabre smile. With a shock, Tommy realised how human he looked without the mask and royal garb. He wore a faded old hoodie that looked like he’d had it since spawn, a torn wool coat, and a pair of baggy pants. No crown sat on his head, and his hair flowed free in the slight breeze.

This was no god. 

He finally nodded again, his eyes boring into the man’s.

Dream looked at him, then at the discs. His expression changed a bit, lips pressing into a line. “Eret’s coronation isn’t for another week… He’s got the castle, and the crown, but I still have the power.” Something in his face changed, and he glanced up again, slipping the bag into his hoodie pocket. “Ok. You win.”

Tommy blinked. “What?”

Dream nodded. “I know what it’s like to care about something enough to fight for it. I’m not a bad guy, Tommy. I don’t like hurting people, despite what people think. I’ve lost everything too. I just… I just had more to begin with, I guess. We’re really not all that different, Tom.”

Tommy blinked at him, almost not daring to believe his ears. “And… the war’s over? You won’t attack? Won’t try to reclaim our land?”

Dream waved his hand. “I don’t really have that kinda power anymore. Not for much longer, at least. I was thinking of leaving town anyway. The woods are nice at night. I like the solitude.” He said this all so casually, like he was chatting about his weekend plans with a friend. “George and Sapnap and I used to go out all the time. Hunting, I mean. Not on dates, unfortunately. Heh, don’t tell Fundy I said that.”

Emboldened by the unexpected victory, Tommy spoke up. “I don’t think Fundy cares anymore.”

Dream paused, his jaw tightening, and he glowered at a point off in the distance. “Yeah… I figured he wouldn’t.” He sighed, looking at Tommy, a strange look on his face. “They’re not going to believe you… here.” He handed his mask to the boy. “Proof. I would never give this up if it didn't mean something.”

Tommy nodded, again. “Is… Is that it?”

Dream looked at him, calculatingly, and then he hummed. “Yeah, I guess so. Go tell your friends, I guess. Bring them home.” And then he was gone, strolling through the woods so casually that Tommy felt shivers roll down his spine. 

The others reacted about how he’d expected. Tubbo stared at him, excitement on his face, his eyes sparkling in admiration as Tommy explained what had happened. Fundy scoffed, rolling his eyes, but his face changed when presented the mask, running his fingers over the padding on the inside, rubbing the leather straps between his fingertips. Wilbur looked between his son, the mask and his brothers, before letting out an incredulous laugh, the life flooding back into his eyes. He rushed forward, wrapping his arms around the boy and swinging him around. Niki grabbed his hands, beaming at him in joy. Tommy wondered if this is what it felt like to be a hero. 

They went home, arriving just in time to find the streets flood with people. Jack came running forward to tackle Tommy in a hug, crowing in his ear a “We won, Toms!” and he laughed happily, hugging him back. 

They declared their independence that day, standing on the roof of Wilbur’s potion store, raising their fists to the sky. Wilbur turned to Fundy, pulling him close. The younger man blinked in surprise, before melting. Tommy had to wonder when the last time he saw his brother hug his son. 

Dream and his goons were there, standing in the street, watching silently. Punz grinned a bit, shaking his head as the revolutionaries cheered. George looked confused, glancing between Sapnap and Dream, as if expecting them to do something about it. Sapnap looked angry, but Tommy had the feeling it wasn’t angled at them. Dream stood apart, in the shadows, a bandana wrapped around his lower face, hiding the scars. Tommy wasn’t sure if anyone else noticed him, but he nodded at the man, receiving a nod back.

They had won.

Things were going to be ok.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pog?! foreshadowing?!! also, merry christmas, i fucking guess. leave comments or you're a bitch /j


	9. Sight. [intermission]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Different people see different things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhh it's 6am and i haven't slept yet. here have a very short filler chapter.
> 
> !tw for: manipulation, morally grey bad!

Dream was a strange man. His mask was cold, unfeeling, his eyes dark and shadowed. He moved with an otherworldly grace, his steps gliding him forward, his sword strikes smooth and flowing. 

Different people saw him differently though.

Tommy saw a monster. A man who laughed as he burned his home down, who shot the boy in the head, who stole his brother’s spark. A monster far beyond salvation.

Tubbo saw a god. A man who fought like a million men, who’s voice cut far sharper than any netherite, who waved off battle wounds like they were paper cuts. An evil god, yes, but a god nonetheless. 

Wilbur saw a threat. A man who matched his tactics with strategy, who’s wits met his time and time again, who wore him down to thread and bone. A threat, and a formidable one at that.

Fundy saw a lover. A man who whispered sweet nothings in his ear as they danced, and listened to him with so much care, and called him a prince. No, not anymore, but if Fundy bit down the guilt and closed his eyes, he could almost remember.

Eret saw a liar. A man who gripped their chin with claw sharp fingers and whispered in their ear, who gripped their elbow tight when they tried to run after their friends and apologise, who wrapped a cloak over their shoulders and hailed them king. He lied when he said that their friends wouldn’t suffer, although why they hadn’t realised that sooner was beyond them.

Bad saw an opportunity. A man so driven by greed he’d let his kingdom fall to ruin, who was desperate to get it back, who hid his sorrows in the woods. Bad wasn’t stupid, he knew how war worked. And he knew how to make it work in his favor.

Sapnap saw a regret. A man who hurt kids and didn’t bat an eye, who was so full of paranoid that he set himself up for failure, who let his faults go unchecked for too long. He would miss Dream, he thought, packing his bags to leave for good.

George saw yellow. A man who said he was green, who said he was his friend, said he would keep him safe. George couldn’t see it, but he believed him. Why wouldn’t he? Just because he couldn’t see colors didn’t mean they didn’t exist.

Punz… Punz wasn’t sure what he saw. Sam, his old friend, had fled this man, and his brother called him a tyrant, but… business ran in the family, and morals don’t matter when your life’s on the line.

Dream didn’t see anything. He couldn’t. The thing inside him, on the other hand, could. And as it looked into the mirror in the bathroom of their shitty apartment, it thought it didn’t much like what it saw. No worries. There was plenty of time to change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhhh pog. new character gets introduced next chapter. (here's a hint, his name begins with q and ends with uackity) 
> 
> can you tell i listened to the body horror song by ajj on repeat for this one?
> 
> leave a comment or you're a bad muffin fucker <3


	10. Morality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilbur and Tommy have an idea. A new challenger enters the ring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one's kinda short but uuhhhhhhhh quackity :)

It was calm, for a while, something which Wilbur was happy about. He would walk the streets of L'Manburg at sunrise, smiling at his allies, at his friends. Sometimes he'd stroll into the SMP, savoring the mere fact that he could. It was calm.

But he wasn't sure how long that calm would last. The country was born in blood, and if they wanted a new ruler, they would get a new ruler. Wilbur wasn't a fighter. He was a thinker, a planner. He wasn't even that, usually, he was just good looking enough for people to follow him.

If someone challenged him to a duel, he would lose, and he couldn't bear the thought of his country being passed on to a monster like Dream.

So he presented the only solution that came to mind.

"An election?" Tommy frowned a bit, gazing out the window of the tower, staring down at the city below. "Like… let the people choose the next king?"

"Mmm… not king. President. The people choose from the candidates, and the winner becomes president. It's pretty simple, Tommy."

Tommy wrinkled his nose. "I know how elections work, bitch. I just- what do-" he paused, formulating his words. Ever since his death via arrow to the face, he'd gained a stammer, as well as a scar, going right down the center of his forehead. "How many candidates will there be?"

Wilbur grinned. "I'm glad you asked, my friend. Potentially, there can be several, but if, by some freak accident, the ballot closed early, and there was only one party…" 

Tommy looked at him realization dawning on his face. "We would be the defacto president. And vice president, I guess." He frowned. "Wait… if we close the ballot, people will notice… right? You can't just… you can't just sabotoge an entire election and expect people not to notice."

Wilbur frowned. "If we get someone to be in charge of that… someone who's good at lying, someone who people trust." Seeing the younger boy's face, he added "Someone who's not Tubbo. If he's involved people will immediately link him to us. It'd probably be better to do someone not immediately linked with the revolution, actually."

Tommy's eyes lit up. "I think I know just the man…"

Man was an overstatement. In Wilbur's eyes, Quackity the dealer was little more than a rat. 

He didn't explicitly dislike him, he just didn't trust him, even as he waved them over with a grin.

Wilbur watched him as they presented their plan, watching his lips thin, watched his eyebrows draw together, watched his eyes flit around as he thought. He felt his heart sink when the man finally looked up and he gazed at the other two. "You know that's like, highly illegal, right?" 

Tommy huffed out a laugh. "Well, yeah? You've never had a problem with illegal shit before."

Quackity shook his head. "Look, there's a difference between selling stuff, and pocketing a couple trinkets in the market, and vandalising a couple houses, and… whatever the hell this is."

Wilbur spoke up. "Quackity, please. We need your help."

The smaller man looked up at them for a second, before his face changed. "Have you guys… opened the ballot yet?"

Wilbur nodded, holding out a piece of paper, his eyes tracking as Quackity took it, and looked at it with a care he hadn't seen from the man before.

He sighed, looking back up at them. "Alright. You got a pen?"

Wilbur frowned a bit, pulling a pen from his suit pocket. Quackity grabbed it and knelt down, using his knee as a hard surface to scribble something down. Handed it back. Watched Tommy's expression as he read the paper.

Below "Wilbur Soot (President) Tommy Watson (Vice President)" was a new line. "Alexis Quackity (President)". 

Wilbur stared at him, simmering rage evident on his face. Quackity paled, but returned the look with equal fervour. Tommy stammered, his eyes on the paper. 

"Wh-Wh- What? You- you can't- you-" He stopped, eyes moving up to his friend. "Big Q?"

Quackity shook his head at him. "Sorry Tom. I'm not going to go along with this." 

Wilbur felt a condensing laugh bubble out of his chest. "You're going to run against us? You can't really believe you have a chance. We led a nation in war. You're… you're not even a citizen! Do you even have a running mate?" 

Quackity scowled, arms crossing. "I… No, not yet. I'll find one though, and then you're done for."

Wilbur laughed again. Quackity wasn't a threat. He was thief, and a conman, and a joke. Tommy looked up to him, for some reason, but no one else took him serious, Wilbur included.

"Do your worst, Alexis." Wilbur spat, before he stalked off. He heard Tommy hesitate, before running after him, but he didn't turn. 

It was still cold, the snow on the ground thick as ever. Wilbur hated the cold. He pulled his new coat around him, the brown wool blocking out the bitter wind. Niki's new flag fluttered in the distance, over a quiet town square. He felt Tommy loop his finger around through his belt loop, like he used to when they were kids.

The anger in his chest died down a bit, and he put an arm around his little brother. "It's ok. It'll be ok."

Tommy hummed, but didn't say anything.

The kid had been betrayed so much. Quackity was one of his best friends and here he was, taking away the thing he'd been fighting for. No, not taking it away. Wilbur wouldn't let him do that to his brother.

They told the other three that night, in the newly constructed president's office. Niki was distressed, concerned about whether Quackity would win or not. Tubbo noticed the shakiness in Tommy's breath and reached over to grab his hand, pressing their foreheads together. Fundy's face twisted a bit, his hands folding together, his eyes fixed on his father.

Wilbur's heart sunk as the man looked at him, gaze boring into him. Something was wrong. After a while, Fundy looked away, his eyes softening a bit, and Wilbur let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. When did he become afraid of his own son? 

What had changed?


	11. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the debate, and reactions.
> 
> aka
> 
> Four short stories, one lie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did i write the debate? no. no i did not. 
> 
> all you need to know is: wilbur ended up monologuing about tradition, quackity showed up in a dirty sweatshirt and flirted w the mediator, and the rest was literally the same as the og 
> 
> also, four new characters pog???

A man sighed, taking off his cloak. The debate had been a wreck, and he realised now that the chances of this going well for L’Manburg was slim to none. However, he thought with a wry smile, that didn’t mean it wouldn’t go well for him. 

Something under his skin writhed as he glanced down at his tattooed arms, but he hissed a quiet “not now” and it was gone. 

Somewhere in the house, someone moved, quiet footsteps on the tile floor. 

“Bad? Is that you?” 

He felt a genuine smile tug at his lips and he turned to the hallway the noises came from. “Hey Skeppy.”

His best friend sighed a bit as soon as he saw him, relaxing a bit. “Hey. How was the debate?”

Bad huffed, heading to the kitchen, waving for the smaller man to follow him. “It’s... Our choices are between a man who is obsessed with power and a guy who’s running because he thinks it’s funny. I don’t think either is any good for the nation, to be honest.”

Skeppy hopped up on the counter, causing Bad to glare at him. “For the nation? What do…” He frowned a bit, “Bad… please don’t tell me…”

Bad shrugged, turning from his roommate to delve into the cabinet for food. “I have a plan.”

Skeppy groaned. “Bad… you and Ant are always scheming, always coming up with plans… and some of them aren’t the most… moral.”

The tall man cast a glance over his shoulder. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes you do. You profit from other people’s misery.”

“Do not.”

“Do too!” Skeppy laughed a bit, before running a hand through his dark hair and sobering. “Look, Bad, I just don’t want you getting hurt. Last time you tried to twist politics in your favor…”

Bad grimaced, hand automatically flying to his throat. “Skeppy… That literally can’t happen again. And this isn’t about him, it’s an election.” He pulled out a loaf of bread. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Skeppy groaned. “God, never say that again. Last I heard that, Finn nearly lost an ear.” They laughed together for a moment, voices echoing off the tiles, before Bad leaned against the wall to look at him. 

“It will be ok, though. I promise.”

There was a pause, before the younger man nodded. “Ok, Bad. But, uh. Don’t fuck this up, ok?”

“Language!” Bad tried to swat his partner’s arm, but he danced away, laughing again. “Gosh… You’re so lucky I love you.”

Things were going to be okay, he told himself.

Sapnap let out a groan as he fell onto the couch. Quackity was talking. He was always talking. For a moment, fire flashed behind the man’s eyelids and he forced his eyes open. Karl was giggling at something Quackity had said, his stupid high-pitched laughter piercing the back of Sapnap’s head. 

“Can you guys shut up?” He muttered, getting a glum look from Karl and an eye roll from Quackity. 

“Jeez, what pissed you off so bad?” Quackity asked, flopping down on the chair across the room.

“I don’t know, you fucking up your debate?!” Sapnap pushed himself upright to glare at him. In the corner of his eye, he saw Karl hover by the door, clearly nervous about where this was going. 

Quackity snorted. “I thought you didn't care.”

“Of course I care, dumbass, this is literally the first big thing you’ve ever done that wasn’t dumb ass hell.” He scowled. “And yet you still managed to fuck it up.”

Quackity flinched at that, but forced himself to laugh again. “Ok, jeez. Whatever.” 

Karl spoke up. “I mean… I don’t think you did that bad. It was pretty good actually!”

Quackity smiled, opening his mouth to say something, but he was cut off by Sapnap. “No, it was awful. You didn’t even wear a suit! That’s, like, such a dumb mistake, holy shit.”

The politician crossed his arms like a petulant child, pouting a bit. “I couldn’t find a suit…”

“Then buy one?!” Sapnap shrieked, his hands flying up. He couldn’t believe how dumb this guy was. Was he really expecting to win?!

He didn’t realise he said that last part out loud until Karl stepped in, his hands flying up. “Whoa whoa whoa. Guys, just… take a breath, ok?” He swept his hair aside to glare at Sapnap, disapproving clear in his gaze. “Quackity absolutely rocked that debate, ok? He did great. He wasn’t prepared, and he wasn’t exactly professional,” He tossed a glance at the smaller man. “But he did a remarkable job. Which means, next debate, he’ll absolutely wipe the honking floor with Wilbur.”

Sapnap and Quackity glared at each other for a bit, but after a beat, Sapnap sighed, sinking back into his seat. “Still can’t believe you picked George as a running mate. The guy’s an idiot.”

Quackity laughed, a bright, ringing sound that made an involuntary grin tug at Sapnap’s mouth. “Yeah, but you gotta admit, the guy’s hot as hell!”

Karl relaxed a bit at the sight of his friends getting along, and sat down next to Sapnap, his shimmering clothes fluttering around him like cherry blossoms in the wind. Sapnap leaned against the older man, feeling him throw an arm over his shoulder. He smelled like flowers and late spring, he noticed absently.

Things were going to be okay, he told himself.

The man walked through the woods, watching the sunlight filter through the woods. His hair brushed his shoulders as a breeze twirled through the branches and he tugged his hood up, shivering a bit. God, he didn’t like winter. 

He arrived at the campsite, looking around for his friend. It was small, a tent and a fire, and a small clothesline. He didn’t see anyone around, though, and he was about ready to head down to the river when a quiet voice rang out.

“Callahan?”

Callahan turned to watch a shadowy figure step out from the thicket. He smiled a bit, hands flying up to sign a greeting. ‘Hello D-R-E-A-M.’

Dream looked tired, his new porcelain mask pushed up over his forehead, his hair tied in a ponytail that looked like it hadn’t been taken down in a while. Still, as soon as he set eyes on the former guard, his face relaxed and he grinned a bit.

“How’d it go?” He headed to the fire, keeping an eye on the man so he could watch him rapidly fire off information, hands moving way too fast for someone who’d been speaking sign language for only a few weeks to understand. He must’ve gotten the basics, though, because he nodded.

“So… Quackity fucked his own shit up, and Wilbur managed to talk himself in a hole.”

Callahan stilled, before tilting his hand back and forth. ‘More or less.’

“Any clear winners?” Dream sat on a large rock by the fire, spearing what looked like a chicken with a stick and motioning Callahan closer.

He obliged, scooting as close to the fire as he could without setting himself on fire, and his hands slowly began to move. ‘No. W good but not as good now. Q bad but not as bad. W has tradition, Q has charisma.’

Dream hummed. “Wilbur Soot’s a determined man. He’ll figure something out. But… Quackity’s something else. He’s new, he’s exciting. People think he’s doing this a joke, they think he doesn’t really care, but you know what I think, Callahan?” He leaned forward, lowering his voice a bit. “I think he cares a lot more than anyone expects.”

Callahan blinked at him. Quackity hadn’t seemed interested in the debate, cracking jokes and lounging against the podium with more comfort than Callahan felt, but… Dream was smart. He knew more than Callahan than basically everything. He was right. 

He was always right. 

‘When come back?’ He signed, hesitating on the last word, almost signing ‘home’, before deciding to make it less… personal.

Dream sighed, watching the fat from the chicken drip into the fire. “Don’t know, Cal. Soon, probably. Maybe. It’s… It’s nice out here. Quieter.”

Callahan hummed, staring into the fire. They sat in silence for a bit, before Dream sighed. “How… how are they?”

Callahan raised his hands a bit, before freezing, trying to figure out how to fit an answer in as few words possible. ‘Ok. S found new home. G running for VP. Happy. Safe.’

Dream nodded, shoulders relaxing a bit. “And Punz?” 

Callahan blinked at him for a bit before he responded. ‘P good. With P-O-N-K.’

He hadn’t realized that Dream had cared about the mercenary, assuming he had hired him for the war, but the look off relief that washed over the younger man’s face took him by surprise. Dream was a lot more caring than people thought. 

Suddenly, the ex-king looked up, eyes sparkling a bit. “Hey, how’s Alyssa?” 

Callahan rolled his eyes before flipping him a gesture that you really didn’t need to speak sign language to understand. 

Dream kept asking questions, about the kingdom, his friends, his enemies. Callahan replied as best he could, doing his best not to use signs that Dream wouldn’t understand. After a while, Dream let out a sigh, a small grin on his face. 

“God, I miss them.”

Callahan nodded, signing a quick ‘and us you,’ hoping he got the message. The two men sat in silence again, before Dream pulled the chicken off the fire and offering some to his old friend, who shook his head.

Things would be okay, he told himself.

“And then I said ‘you don’t allow shit, bitch,’ and he looked like I’d slapped him!’ Tubbo laughed happily, his companion letting out a quiet hum. 

Tommy and Wilbur were working in L’Manburg, planning speeches or some boring stuff like that. He missed them, but they had a country to run. He couldn’t really help with that, so he’d been visiting his friend more and more. He didn’t think the man minded much, no one else ever visited him.

They were in the middle of one of his huge fields, working while Tubbo told the story of the debate. Or, rather, the man worked, while Tubbo rambled happily. 

After a moment, Tubbo turned to him. “Oh, Boar, do you think Wilbur and Tommy will win?”

Boar paused, his motions slowing as he thought. “Yeah.” Tubbo waited for more, and noticing this, Boar straightened up, leaning a bit on his hoe as he squinted at the horizon. “Mmm… From what you’ve told me, they’re stubborn. They’re smart. They won a war against Dream, for crying out loud. They can win an election against a guy who has no idea what he’s doing.”

Tubbo nodded, but he wasn't convinced. “Yeah, but war and politics really don’t have much in common, do they?”

Boar snorted. “You’d be surprised.”

Tubbo blinked at that, filing it away to add to the long list of enigmatic statements his friend had uttered. He didn’t know much about the potato farmer, not even his name. ‘Boar’ was something he’d come up with back when they’d first met, and the man never really corrected him. He knew he liked potatoes, the monotony of physical work was calming to him. He knew he didn’t like Dream, something that was connected to his missing eye. He knew that he had only one other friend, a man who lived far far away and took care of him as a kid. And he knew about the voices.

He found out about them on his second visit, when he walked into the man’s cabin to find him lying on the floor, blood on his face and his middle finger laying on the floor beside him. Apparently, the strange voices in Boar’s head got over excited about Tubbo being there, and wanted him to kill the boy, rip him apart, see what made him tick. They craved blood, so Boar gave them blood, by chewing off his own finger.

Tubbo had been scared, but he decided to stick around, keep coming back. Boar finally opened up, and he’d even laughed at one of his jokes a few weeks back, a quiet, hoarse chuckle. His voice still stayed a deep, sad, monotone, but Tubbo was getting better at understanding the little changes, the inflections, the pauses. 

“Uh, Tub?” He blinked, looking at the broad shouldered man, who was looking at him nervously, his one amber eye glittering in concern. “You kinda zoned out.”

“Oh, sorry!” Tubbo chirped, picking up his hoe and smiling at the farmer, who visibly relaxed. “Was kinda caught up in my thoughts. Nothing to worry about, man.”

Boar nodded, his eyes flitting to the side, a sure sign that one of the voices was acting out, and he muttered something under his breath, before turning back to his work. Tubbo wasn’t concerned. It wasn’t exactly a rarity for Boar to talk to the voices, and he knew it was probably something menial, like telling him his house burnt down, or he should build a cobblestone tower in the middle of his field. The voices were rarely violent, usually just a chattering crowd, barely coherent, speaking too fast, too loud for Boar to keep track.

The two worked side by side for a while, Tubbo often forgetting to work to instead ramble about Sam, or Tommy, or bees, and Boar would just hum, still listening intently. He was one of the few people who actually listened to Tubbo anymore, instead of ignoring him. It was probably one of the reasons the boy kept coming back. He liked attention, not that he ever got it.

As they finally finished up and headed inside for jacket potatoes and beef, Tubbo made a joke, some unfunny line about the sun and trees, and Boar laughed, and he smiled gratefully. 

Things were going to be okay, he told himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1.) there will be no shipping in this story, other than fwt. that being said!!! skeppy and bad are married, mostly for tax benefits. they have a very happy relationship, and whether it's platonic or romantic is undefined (y'know like in the actual smp) also buffboyhalo is very important to me
> 
> 2.) idk i really wanted karl being a good friend because i care him
> 
> 3.) yes, callahan is mute. i am hoh, so i like him and mega way more than i should, so i added him. yes, he does get all the bitches.
> 
> 4.) QUICK REMINDER. technochat =/= psychosis! that being said, i'm writing using my own experience with auditory hallucinations, meaning it may have some things in common. not all psychotic people experience auditory hallucinations, and those who do rarely have violent voices.


	12. Politics is a Losing Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a new party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm writing this on my computer for once, why is ao3 so weird off of mobile wtf.
> 
> also i have never watched a single vikkstar video in my life and i refuse to start now xoxo.

Tommy wasn’t good at speeches. Hell, he hasn’t even been good at speaking, since the duel, since he got an arrow through the brain. He tripped over his words, and slurred the sounds together, and sometimes, he straight up forgot what he was saying. 

Having to give a speech was one of his worst fears, in all honesty, but he had no choice. If he wanted to be vice-president, he would need to suck it up. 

Wilbur helped him write it, at least, showing him what needed to be changed, and giving him tips on how to make it sound more professional. Tommy appreciated it, not that he’d admit it, instead opting to complain about Wilbur being up in his business. Wilbur just rolled his eyes and ruffled Tommy’s hair. 

Tubbo wasn’t around nearly as much anymore. He would go up to the mountains nearly every afternoon to visit his mysterious farmer friend, or to look for Sam.

He still hadn’t heard from his brother, still hadn’t figured out how to tell him it was safe to come home. 

Tommy missed his friend, but he knew that they couldn’t hang out all the time, especially not with his newfound duties as a politician. So he let the boy go, let him wander the hills, let him find other friends.

The speeches were to take place on a frosty winter day, only a week or so before Christmas. Tommy had finished writing his speech, and memorised most of it, and he was confident in his presentation, in his well pressed uniform, his nicely combed hair. 

He was confident, until he got on the stage.

There were so many people there, so many faces. He recognized most of them. Jack stood off to the side, talking with a wiry man who Tommy remembered being named Ant Frost. Sapnap and Karl Jacobs looked to be having some sort of whispered argument, which Sapap was winning. Eret stood alone, her suit pressed and crisp, her boots polished and shiny. Dream was there too, which took Tommy by surprise. He gazed up at the stage, long green cloak and new white mask hiding any and every feature of his body, of his face.

Fundy and Niki weren’t there, and he wondered where they could be.

George was late, much to Quackity’s distress. The dealer looked on the verge of tears as he anxiously looked around the area, gnawing his lip. Tommy almost felt bad, he and Quackity had always been close, ever since the man had caught him stealing in the market, and instead of turning him in, had shown him how to do it better, stealthier. 

But that was the past, he reminded himself as George jogged up to the stage and Quackity let out a sigh.

Tubbo was in charge of proceedings, a role awarded by Wilbur after hours of begging, and the boy wore a nice new suit, and a pair of glossy as hell shoes. He looked good.

Tubbo stepped to the mic, and cleared his throat. “Uh, hello,” The crowd quieted, eyes turning to the boy, who smiled shakily. “Hello, everyone, thank you for coming. I’m Tubbo, I’m going to be introducing the candidates. As you know, we have two parties, as well as a write-in option, yo-”

“Wait!”

Tommy’s eyes widened as Fundy came sprinting up the steps, a piece of paper clutched in his hand, Niki puffing along behind him.

“The ballots. They were never officially closed,” Fundy said, eyes flitting between his father and Tubbo. “Technically, they’re still open.”

Tubbo frowned uncomfortably, glancing toward the audience. “Uh, Fundy?”

Fundy was grinning now, and Tommy thought he looked more and more like a fox. He shoved the paper at the boy, before stepping back and raising his arms. “Tubbo. I’m running. Niki and I filled out the form, we’re running.”

The stage fell silent before Wilbur scoffed. “Fundy, no. Go sit down.”

Fundy whirled on his father, eyes sharp, teeth bared. “No, Wilbur. I will not. I have every right to be here, just as much as you. I’m running for president. Niki will be my vice.”

Tubbo stared at the forms. “Everything… everything seems to be in order… I guess… I guess they’re allowed to run?”

Wilbur stammered indignantly. “No, he’s… he’s just a boy! I’m his father, he should’ve asked me first-”

“I’m nineteen, I’m an adult, I don’t need you to tell me what to do! Besides, Tommy is fifteen, did you ask his father?!” Fundy snapped, his arms flailing as he glared at the taller man with a burning passion. 

Tommy scowled, opening his mouth to argue, but Tubbo caught his gaze and shook his head. 

“Fundy Soot and Nikachu Nuemann have filled out all the official documents and are now… official candidates.”

Fundy smirked triumphantly, and waved at Tubbo, a vague ‘go ahead’ gesture. He and Niki went to stand on the other side of Quackity, who scowled a bit.

Tubbo sighed, staring down at the papers in his hands, before shaking his head. “Wilbur Soot, please give your speech.”

Wilbur immediately stepped forward, an easy smile on his face. He’d always been a good talker. Growing up, he’d been the one to get the boys out of trouble. He’d been the one to charm his way out of bad situations. This was no different. He spoke of tradition, of unity, of war and bloodshed, of victory, of being a nation. His words were calm, mellowed, rational, and Tommy saw several people in the audience nodding. He stepped back to applause.

Quackity was next. His suit was wrinkled, and his old beanie rested atop messy hair, but he smiled shakily at the crowd. He spoke of freedom, and of equality. Of corruption, and deceit. It was a good message, and the people liked it, but his hands still shook as he backed down.

Then, Fundy. He pulled a crumpled paper from his leather jacket and squinted at it before flinching and shoving it back in his pocket, “I lost my speech.” The crowd went insane, people laughing, shouting, trying to get a word in edgewise, but then he raised his arm, and it went quiet. “I lost my speech, so I’ll have to speak from the heart.

“That man,” He pointed at Wilbur, “Is a bastard. He is a liar. He tried to rig the election in his favor. Is that the kind of man you want leading you? No. He has never had your best interest in mind, he just wants power. So fuck him. Vote Fundy, so Soot loses.”

He turned to go back to Niki who stared at him, pale faced in shock. She muttered something to him, but he just shook his head. The crowd murmured uncomfortably, and Wilbur shifted a bit beside Tommy, who just rolled his eyes.

His speech was next, and he was proud of how it turned out. He stammered a bit, but instead of hiding it, trying to play it cool, he paused, gently touched the scar on his forehead and apologized shakily. The people bought into it, giving him pitying expressions. He grinned internally as he continued, restating his brother’s points, talking about how important it was that people worked together. People clapped for him.

George talked of change, creating something new, making things better. People clapped, but people were still sore about the war, upset that the ex-tyrant’s right hand man was now trying to lead them.

Niki’s speech was short, simple. She talked about peace, and happiness, and how she and Fundy would work to make L’Manburg not just a country, but a home.

Applause was scattered, but it was there.

Then the speeches where over. The candidates dispersed to talk, to dicuss what had happened. Discuss what was yet to come.

The next part was the important part. The part where you got someone big, someone important, with a lot of pull. You got them on your side, and then you let them talk.

Tommy knew who he was going for. Vikk Star, a man of the people, who lived in the richer part of the SMP, and never really showed up to anything. He had money, and he was charismatic, and he was famous.

It’d be hard, but he could do it. He knew he could do it, he was a good talker.

He knocked on the door to Star’s mansion that afternoon, fixing his tie as he waited. Finally, someone opened the door. A man in a fluffy maid’s dress stood in the doorway, staring down at Tommy.

The teen cleared his throat, smiling carefully at the man. “Hello. I’m here to speak to Mr Star please?”

The guy blinked at him, before eyeing him carefully. “And what’s your name?”

“T-Tommy? Tommy Watson? I’m, uh, running for vice president. Of L’Manburg. Uh, I was wondering if he would be willing to endorse me.”

The man looked almost impressed, nodding and stepping aside for him to come in. “I’ll ask him if he wants to speak with you. Give me a moment, please.”

He disappeared down a hallway, and Tommy got a moment to look around, staring at the paintings on the wall, and the polished marble floor, at the huge glass chandelier. It was beautiful.

Suddenly the man was back, and he smiled at the look of wonder on Tommy’s face. “Yeah, pretty impressive, huh? Come on, Mr Star’s waiting for you.”

Mr Star was sitting in his office when Tommy walked in, writing something. When he heard the door open, he looked up. “Thank you, Hbomb. I’ll take it from here.”

Tommy had seen his picture in the paper before, and occasionally caught a glimpse of him around town, but he was not prepared for this. Vikk Star was a small man, with light blue robes, and a pair of glasses perched awkwardly on his nose. His eyes glimmered darkly as Tommy slid into the chair across from him.

He and Tommy stared at each other for a bit, before Tommy spoke. “Um, hello, my name is Tommy, Tommy Watson. Uh, I’m… Mr Star-”

“Call me Vikk.”

“Hm?”

Vikk leaned back in his chair, raising an eyebrow. “Call me Vikk. Mr Star sounds dumb.”

Tommy paused, before chuckling uncomfortably. “It’s not the weirdest name I’ve ever heard. My nephew’s name is Fundy. Your… uh… maid? His name is Hbomb.”

Vikk laughed at that, shaking his head. “Hbomb isn't my maid. I’m not even sure who he is, he just showed up one day and started answering my door and cooking my food.”

Tommy laughed incredulously. “Holy shit, really?!”

Vikk nodded, before sobering a bit. “Speaking of showing up, what exactly do you want from me?”

Tommy hesitated, shifting in the leather chair uncomfortably. “I’m… I’m running for vice president of L’Manburg, and, uh… I was wondering if you were willing to endorse me Friday?”

Vikk raised an eyebrow. “Endorse you? What exactly would that entail? What would I get out of it?”

Tommy hesitated, scratching the back of his neck as he thought. “Uh… you just have to get up on the stage, and say… something? I don’t know, say Wilbur and I are cool? And in return, uh… um…”

“In return you guys owe me a favor. Name a park after me, or put up a statue, maybe?’

Tommy grinned in relief, nodding enthusiastically. “Yeah, yeah, whatever you want!”

Vikk smiled, sitting back in his chair again, tenting his fingers. “Alright. We have a deal. Friday, you said? Eight thirty?”

Tommy beamed at him, standing up quickly. “Yeah, yeah, yeah!” He stuck out a hand to the man. “I’ll see you there, Mr Vikk Star, sir!”

Wilbur wouldn’t tell him who he picked. He only said he’d sent out a letter, and gotten a letter in return, and the mysterious endorsement would be there. 

And then it was just preparation.

Tubbo was in charge of the whole election at this point, after Karl stepped down to instead hang out with Sapnap and Quackity, leaving the poor boy to organize everything by himself. He did a good job, but he kept crediting his ideas to his mysterious potato friend. Tommy faintly thought that this mountain farmer and his eldest brother would probably get along pretty well, assuming his brother wasn’t dead in a ditch somewhere, or at war, or…

Friday came faster than he would’ve liked, and he once again stood on the stage in his scratchy wool uniform, his hair slicked back and combed to perfection. He didn’t need a speech this time, just a representative.

This time, Fundy and Niki went first. 

Niki called up a woman named Puffy who was apparently a sea captain. Puffy talked about how wonderful Niki was, how kind, how generous, how friendly. Tommy and Tubbo exchanged looks, and Tubbo mouthed ‘defo flirting,’ which made Tommy snicker a bit. She also mentioned Fundy, but it was mostly in passing.

Fundy got Dream, much to Wilbur’s obvious discomfort. The ex-king was dressed simply, without his crown, and he spoke casually. He never called Fundy his husband, or his beloved, or anything he would’ve called him before the war. He just said that Fundy was smart, and wise, and would be good for the country. 

George was supposed to go next. But instead, Quackity stepped up to the mic, leaned in close, and announced that George had dropped out of the race, and he was going to be running alone. The audience murmured, whispers rippling through the crowd. His promised representor wasn’t there, and his Vice President was gone. This wasn’t going to end well for him.

Then it was Tommy’s turn. He watched Vikk Star walk up to the stage, letting out a puff of air when the man grinned at him.

Vikk’s speech was short, and sweet. He was honest, admitting he hadn’t known Tommy until recently, but he said he thought he was a good kid, and would be a good vice. The audience went crazy for him, and Tommy grinned at him. 

Then, Wilbur stepped up to the mic, smiling at the crowd. “Hello, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for coming. I know you’ve heard this five times before, but I really am so incredibly glad that you guys took the time to come out here for us. Thank you, Tubbo, for setting up this incredible event-”

Someone below shouted, “Hey, skip the theatrics, Soot, you got a rep or what?”

Wilbur let out a sharp hiss through clenched teeth, smile still frozen on his face. “Of course, of course,” He extended his arm to the side, toward the steps, toward the man slowly coming up them. “Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce the founder of Schlatt and Co trading company and my old friend, James Schlatt."


End file.
